


Tunnel Rats

by J_Nerd



Series: Tales of the Underground [1]
Category: Beauty and the Beast (TV 1987), Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: Beast!Holtz, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Sorry Not Sorry, blood and violence because kidnapping and Mob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2018-09-18 12:42:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 42
Words: 152,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9385652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/J_Nerd/pseuds/J_Nerd
Summary: Kidnapped, beaten, and left for dead, Erin Gilbert finds herself at the mercy of a gentle but secretive Samaritan linked to a world she never knew existed below the streets of New York and becomes entangled in a mystery 32 years in the making.OrThe 1987 Beauty and the Beast crossover I can't keep myself from writing.





	1. Chapter 1

A rough hand digs into her scalp, jerking her head back with bruising force that pulls a gasp from her lips. The van was dark and rocks with every turn and pothole hit, but Erin can see enough to make out small details. Namely, the faces of the three men towering above her.

“Snitches get stitches, bitch,” one of them snarls, close enough to her ear she can smell the day-old liquor on his breath. He cracks his knuckles, the sound overly loud in the small space. In any other situation, it would seem cliche. Right now, however, it's properly terrifying and makes Erin jump. Her attempt to recoil earns her a hard jerk back to center, and she does her best not to whimper.

She doesn’t know what’s going on or what these men are talking about. She doesn’t know them. She doesn’t know how she got into this situation. One second she was walking home from her office at the DA’s high-rise, going over case briefings for the following morning, and the next she’s being pulled into a maroon van by six sets of hands before a scream could even build in her throat. It was a woman’s worst nightmare come true, only she was living it live and in person.

“I..." She swallows hard, licking her lips, eyes darting from one kidnapper to the next. What was she supposed to do? "I don’t—“

The first blow sinks into Erin’s stomach and doubles her over, pushing the breath from her lungs. She might have vomited her lunch all over the dirty van floor had a second fist not connected with her right jaw, spinning her halfway around. She doesn’t fall despite feeling her heeled feet buckle under her, held aloft by a vice-like grip on her upper arms. Her tongue stings something fierce from where she’d bitten it, iron flooding her mouth. A third blow has her seeing stars, the skin of her left cheek on fire. Something wet begins to warm her upper lips, cutting a path down her face.

“Didn’t give you permission to talk, cunt.” Thick fingers close around Erin’s throat, choking off any pleas of innocence or mercy. She’s drawn closer to the speaker: a nondescript, white male with a scar on his upper lip and cold, dead brown eyes. He scrutinizes her closely, looking for what Erin can't say. “You know what you did," he eventually rumbles, voice flat. "Marco doesn’t like when his girls get out of line, so we got a lesson to teach you. Just a chat between friends. You know the drill.”

The man's face splits into a grin that chills Erin's blood. It was like watching a shark smile.

 _Marco…_ Erin’s panicked mind rips through her memory, seeking the name. A client. maybe? A perp? Only one comes up, and she feels her stomach plummet to the van floor. _Marco Falconi. Notorisou crime boss. Wanted for federal crimes but currently untouchable by anyone save for maybe God himself. Oh God. Oh God, please not that._

“Don’t know…F-Falconi,” she manages to gasp around the fingers digging into her windpipe, but she might as well have been screaming into the wind. Thugs weren’t hired to listen to their marks. They were hired to follow orders.

“Sure you don’t,” comes the cold reply tinted with grim amusement. The man in front of her nods for the others to continue.

Something white hot sparks against Erin’s lower back. Her muscles seize—knees turning to jelly—and she drops, barely able to scream as the electricity works through her. Taser. She’d just been tasered. The world grays at the edges when the current ceases. Her entire body appeared to be working against her, heart and lungs warring with one another. She couldn't catch her breath and slumps with the pull of gravity.

Again she’s pulled up to her knees, but this time the man behind her holds her in place—muscular arm across her chest—ensuring she wouldn’t go anywhere when the electricity arced through her again. This time, Erin does scream, back bowed against the pain. Her cries are only silences when a fist connects with the bridge of her nose, snapping her head back. Erin’s eyes roll. Hot liquid gushes from her nostrils. The world dims, narrowing into a straw-like focal point she can’t seem to catch. Her heart feels like a battery ram behind her ribs. She can’t suck in enough air and trembles like a leaf in the wind. Something knocks her forward. Clawing into her hands and knees, Erin catches the swing of a boot that launches her bodily into the wall of the van. Stars spark behind her eyes. This time, she does vomit, lacking the strength to rise afterward.

It was difficult determining where one fist ended and the other began. Or was that a foot? Hard telling. Erin tucked into herself as best she could, curled on her side, covering her head with her hands. It was little protection, especially when most of the boots connecting with her body were steel-toed. Boots meant for doling out punishment. Boots meant to kill if necessary.

The assault goes on for what feels like an eternity. Lost in the tight curl of self-preservation, Erin loses track of how many turns the van makes and how many times it lurches to a stop. It doesn’t matter. She’s dead anyway, so the only thing that truly shocks her was when the hail of abuse abruptly stops.

Erin didn’t even begin to hope her ordeal was over. Not in the slightest. This was just the eye of the hurricane passing over. So when she’s hauled to her knees again, head held up once more by her hair, she stares incoherently through her only working eye at the scarred man crouched in front of her. He moves something metallic into her line of sight, waving it teasingly.

“Now, I hope you’ve enjoyed our little talk,” he sneers, joined by his comrades in a slithering snicker. But just as quickly, his smile falls, replaced with a rage Erin can almost feel. The others clam up immediately, a tense silence filling the void. “Falconi said to shut you up, but that mouth of yours got my brother put behind bars for five years. Five _fucking years_. So we’re gonna go off the rails a bit. Falconi isn’t going to miss one whore, even if you are nice to look at.”

Erin chokes on a gurgling breath when she feels the knife bite into her side. She can’t scream, only grunt, cut off by the thick trickle of blood seeping into her mouth and bubbling past her lips. Her one seeing eye goes wide seconds before the man’s forehead connects with hers and the world fades to black.  

Her next sensation is the sense of falling. Tumbling. Rolling down an incline until her momentum peters out. Her body hits hard, jagged obstacles on the way down. The stagnant, sick-smelling musk of the van is replaced with the sharp scent of cold, open air and frost. She’s outside. In the elements. In the snow. It's cold between her fingers and brutalized face. Somewhere above, Erin hears the van speed away, rubber tires chirping before the area grows still once more.

Where was she? Still in New York City? Maybe in Jersey? She can’t tell. Can’t even rise to crawl out of the ditch she’d been thrown into. Every inhale rattles in the back of her throat like gravel in a jar. Iron is the only thing she can taste. She can’t draw in enough air to fend off the dizziness clawing at her.

 _This is it,_ she thinks morosely, able to feel tears welling in her non-swollen eye. _I’m going to die._   

A part of Erin was grimly thankful. The cold was a compassionate killer. First, it numbed you. Then it lulled you to sleep with a gentle lullaby, cradled in arms of frost and ice. Erin could feel her only working eyelid beginning to droop even as she struggled to move, to crawl, to live, the snow under her—quickly turning red—wicking the pain away along with her life. All she had to do was close her eyes and rest and the agony would be over.

 _Please,_ she thinks blearily, darkness creeping in. _Please, someone…help me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally have no explanation as to why I've embarked on this venture, but here I am. Not entirely sure how long this will wind up being. Maybe a few parts. Maybe a larger fic. Who's to say? If you enjoyed it, let me know. Reviews legit make me write faster.


	2. Chapter 2

The gate made little noise when she squeezed past it—rusted hinges complaining in the cold. Holtzmann winced at the squealing sound. No one would be guarding this section of the Underground. Well, no one _should_ be. At least, that’s what she hoped, but the sound was still unwanted and sharp in her ears.

Finding no centuries afoot and hearing no alarmed tapping on pipes—her people’s preferred form of communication—Holtz grins mischievously and ducked into the darkness of Central Park, hood pulled over her head. She struck out at a quick pace, checking the watch at her wrist just to be sure she still had time to meet her liaison. No doubt Mother would be cross when her absence was discovered. Hell, she’d be rightly pissed off if Holtz knew the woman well enough—which she did—but sometimes the rules had to be broken.

Undergrounders didn’t go Topside. That’s what Mother repeatedly insisted to Holtzmann and the rest of the colony thriving under the streets of New York on an almost daily basis. It wasn’t their world. You don’t go Topside. There was no reason to go Topside. They had Helpers Topside who would get the Undergrounders whatever they needed. _You don’t go Topside_.

For thirty-two years Holtzmann heard that, and for thirteen of those thirty-two years she’d listened. But curiosity was as much in her nature as creating and building. And when the precocious teen finally worked up the courage to finally see for herself why going Topside wasn’t necessary she quickly discovered a new world of wonder, mystery, and technology. Oh, so much technology!

A grin crinkled the woman’s face. Oh, the things she could create with mere scrap from Topside. Half the reason the Undergrounders had what they had now was because of Holtzmann. Electric lights. Heating. Radio communication. Lifts and pullies. Elevators. She was working towards building what she hoped would be a continuous power source—nuclear if she was being honest—for her people so they could fully detach from New York’s electrical grid and become completely self-sustaining. It was her ultimate dream as a builder and the reason for her trek Topside. Well, almost the main reason.  

There was something about the air and the feeling of a breeze rustling her hair. Something wild and thrilling and natural. Especially in winter. Winter was a magical time. Fall was a close second—what with its colors and earthy smells—but winter was full of frost and ice, foggy breaths and snow. In the Underground, there were no seasons. Nothing to break up the days save for repetition, chores, and the tolling of the clocks—yet another addition created by the Underground’s resident engineer. No sun. No moon. No _stars_.

Gods did Holtzmann love the stars. As a child, she’d read and memorized every book imaginable. Anything she could get her hands on. She’d even built her own star-gazer, a round little ball with carefully mapped constellations set overtop a candle she’d proudly shown to Mother. The two sat for hours looking up at the synthetic night sky, but nothing could compare to the real thing.

It was towards that same star-dusted sky Holtz turned her head, letting the chilled breeze play with the ends of her shaggy blonde hair carefully pinned in an elaborate up-do and tug at her threadbare coat. Squatting, she gathered a handful of snow into her fingerless gloved hands and held it up to her nose. Cold fractals tickle her skin, making her laugh. Grinning manically after filling her lungs with biting air, Holtz takes off at a run, the need to feel speed driving her.    

Sticking to the tree line just to be safe—disobedient she might be but Holtz wasn’t stupid—she loses herself in the thud of her booted feet against the snowy ground. In no time, she’s in the denser areas of the park where the trees and bushes grow in snarls. The isolation ensured she could remove her hood and not be noticed, which she gladly does.

Stopping next to a gnarly tree to pant plumes of white fog into the wintry night, Holtz readies herself to make a mad dash across a clearing and subsequent stretch of road when her ears pick up the distinct whir of a car engine. Ducking down, she watches a dark colored van rocket past at an unreasonable speed without its headlights on.

 _Okay. Not sketchy at all,_ she thinks, watching the receding taillights. It takes a sharp turn and disappears, the smell of its exhaust lingering faintly.

Holtz doesn’t immediately follow. She had a meetup not far from here with a Helper who was supposed to drop off a fresh box of scrap metal, circuits, wires, electronics, and other salvaged items at one of the park’s lesser traveled entrances. Holtz needed to meet him before someone grew suspicious of dark figures making trades in the dead of night, but something about the van niggled at her.

Backtracking a bit, Holtz shoves her hands into her pocket and pretends to know what she’s looking for or even doing. She just had a weird feeling, that’s the only rational conclusion her mind cobbles together. A strange feeling and general suspicion, but sometimes those were powerful senses one shouldn’t ignore, so she saunters a short ways until deeming her venture fruitless.

Blowing out a long breath, she waffles for a second or two at the tree line, looking off in the direction the van had taken before giving a helpless shrug and heading back to her appointment.    

_Probably just a bunch of drunk idiots. Not any of my business._

The scent catches her attention and stills her retreating strides, there one minute and gone the next. Turning into the wind, Holtz sniffs and frowns, then sniffs again. She knew that smell. It couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than iron. A lot of iron. The hairs along the nape of her neck prickle. There was something ominous in the atmosphere now, something bad. It draws her brow into a wrinkled frown.

Following her nose—which thanks to living in the Underground made her quite sensitive to Topside scents—Holtz picked her way along the road before stopping at a sharp bend where the trees dropped down into a gully. Again the wind buffers her. Again she smells iron and stiffens. Climbing down into a steep ditch, Holtz almost doesn’t see the motionless form at the bottom. The shadows hid it well, but her eyes were sharper than most humans. Cautious, the young woman edges closer before freezing altogether when those same sharp eyes of hers catch sight of the delicate hand half buried in snow.

_Oh, gods. Oh, gods…no._

Body dump. It wasn’t uncommon, but this was her first time running into something like this. Fear twists in her guts, but it doesn’t stop her from sliding the rest of the way down and skittering around until she’s facing the body. Digging into her coat pocket, she withdraws a flashlight and clicks it on.

There wasn’t much of a face to look at. Not one that didn’t resemble raw meat, but there was a strong feminine quality to it, even under the blood. Holtz’s hands are gentle as she rolls the woman onto her back, moving wet strands of dark hair away from her face and letting the beam of her flashlight track over her. A sick feeling builds in Holtz’s chest which amplifies the more of the brutalized woman she takes in. Body in ruin. Blood everywhere, the largest amount coming from a wound in her side. Leaning down, Holtz puts her ear close to woman’s mouth and waits, breath held. After a moment she exhales gustily and rocks back onto her heels.

Still alive. Barely, but alive.

It wasn’t hard piecing things together. The van. The woman. The intent behind dumping her in such a secluded area of the park. She was marked to die—left like discarded trash, like a worthless broken toy. Holtzmann felt something hot flood her veins. A growl rumbles in the back of her throat. Was human life Topside so cheap? She tried to understand how something like this could happen and what came next, but a decision had already been reached almost without her realizing. In a smooth motion, Holtz scoops the woman up, bearing her slight weight with manageable ease.

The trek back to the Underground was a difficult one, but Holtz makes good time, appointment forgotten. Once safely past the circular iron gate, she fights to grab the hanging wrench next to a fat pipe and taps out a frantic message.

_Holtz returning. Medical assistance required. Get Mother._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look, two chapters in a relatively short amount of time. Well damn. I still don't know how long this is going to wind up being. I've decided that this will be a side fic I work on while writing Ecto-high, so forgive me if updates are sporadic.


	3. Chapter 3

The way into the subterranean world was winding and dark. To anyone unfamiliar with the tunnels crisscrossing beneath New York, it would seem like a labyrinth. And it was, in a sense. False walls. Hidden passages. Trap doors, but Holtzmann knew the way. Even blindfolded, she knew every turn and step and obstacle. Her descent was hampered slightly by the body in her arms, but she made good time into the lower levels.

Lingering briefly by a partially rusted pipe, Holtz readjusts her grip on the woman and leans her ear against it, listening for a reply to her message. So far no one had responded, which wasn’t uncommon, just irksome. Most of the Undergrounders would be asleep, but someone should have heard a distress call. The fact they hadn’t was something she would speak to Mother about. Unwilling to hold her position until an answer arrived—she could tell by how shallow the woman’s breathing had become she was running out of time—Holtz is forced to soldier on. She pauses briefly to strip off her hoodie and tie it snugly around the woman’s waist to stem the bleeding from the knife wound before resuming her descent.

Very quickly, the drab grays and blues of the upper tunnels shifts to warmer browns and reds, the halls becoming rough-hewn and wider. Subtle hints of habitation appear, if one knew where to look. Writing on walls—small murals left behind by curious children. Markers and arrows. Well-traveled paths. Stairs rubbed smooth by the passing of hundreds of feet over a lifetime.

Using her boot to unlock a false wall, Holtz approaches an arguably rickety lift that would take her the rest of the way. It was a shortcut. One of many crafted to better move through the tunnels unnoticed. Mother knew about most of them, unfortunately, but Holtz still had a few secret places the woman’s keen eye hadn’t wheedled out yet. With the flick of a switch she’s descending at a rapid rate into a dark shaft, sparks flickering to life overhead like tiny earthbound shooting stars. The landing was a bit rough—Holtz would have to recalibrate the lift—but she’s where she needs to be and breathes a sigh of relief when the hidden door two hallways from her home glides open on well-oiled rollers.

She can smell the peppermint tea brewing before she stepped foot into the main room. Mother always had a cup before bed while she poured over one of the thousands of tomes she’d collected over the years. Grunting with the effort, Holtz hurries down the steps, her booted footfalls alerting the woman to her arrival.

“I thought you’d turned in an hour ago,” Mother says without looking up, turning a page in her book smoothly. Her curly hair was pinned in an up-do not unlike Holtzmann’s, only less styled and messy. When her comment isn’t met with an immediate reply, she sighs and lowers her book, only to start with a gasp when she turns to face her daughter.

“Jillian!” the older woman exclaims, coming out of her chair like she’d been shocked, eyes huge behind her reading spectacles. “What is the meaning—“

 _Mother, please,_ Holtzmann pants, arms burning and hands slippery. She was quickly losing both her strength and grip. _Help_.

Despite her shock, Mother moves quickly. Together, she and Holtz carry the unconscious woman to a currently unused couch in a nook away from the main room. When Holtz’s hand come away—arms weak and trembling—they’re stained red to her wrists, blood drying in the creases of her skin and smeared across the front of her shirt. Exhaustion had long ago set in, but the blonde goes quickly to her knees, tearing open the woman’s blouse only to reveal the sickening extent of the damage beneath her clothes.

_Oh gods…_

Finally able to get a clear look, Mother’s face visibly pales, her posture becoming iron-stiff. It had been a number of years since she’d seen this level of brutality up close. Her stomach churns with the memory, and she bites down hard on her back molars.

“Jillian,” she says in a carefully calculated exhale, eyes locked on the stranger in her midst. “Tell me what happened. Who is this?”

 _I was…_ Holtzmann pauses, unsure if she should admit to her sneaking out again, but it wasn’t like she could deny it. Not when she’d returned home carrying a victim of assault—a Topsider to boot—in her arms. Defeated, she opts for shoulder-sagging truth. _I was meeting Louis tonight. He had a delivery for me. I saw a van in the park on my way there. It sped by, and I didn’t think anything of it until I smelled…blood. I went looking, and I found her at the bottom of a ditch. They left her to die, Mother._

“Yes, my dear, that is what they do,” the older woman says with a slow nod as if Holtz was supposed to understand. She didn’t. Not because the ways of Topsiders were strange to her. They were people just like Undergrounders. But because what human could do that to another and still have a soul?

“But tell me. What, pray tell, do you expect me to do about this?” Apparently, the ponderance of a soul extended not only to Topsiders.

The question rocks Holtz enough she actually leans back to get a better look at her mother, unsure the words had actually fallen from her lips. _Heal her,_ she motions frantically with her hands. _Save her._

“To what end, Jillian?”

_What do you mean to what end? She needs our help! I couldn’t very well leave her lying there bleeding to death, which she still seems to be doing on our couch!_

“You don't understand the gravity of what you’ve done.”

Snarling at her mother’s dispassion, Holtz crosses the room and snatches up the Tap used for the pipe next to it, ready to make a call for help the Undergrounders would be sure to hear. However, a sharp reproach stops her mid-reach.

The older woman turns tightly, crossing her arms over her chest. She still hadn’t made a move to help the prone woman. “You brought a Topsider into our world. I want you to think about that before you make another move. What will happen once she wakes? What if she doesn’t? What if she dies, and her disappearance leads the authorities to us?”

 _She needs our help!_ Holtzmann shouts, rounding on the woman.

“She isn’t one of us!”

 _Weren’t you the one who made the vow to never turn a person in need away, regardless of station?_ Holtz holds her mother’s hazel stare with a bright blue one of her own.

“You don’t think sometimes, Jillian!” she snaps, voice cold. “She’s a Topsider!”

_She a human and she’s hurt. She is dying. She needs our help, not you and me arguing moral semantics about saving a person’s life! You’re a doctor. You took an oath!_

Mother straightens, face turning hard. “Watch yourself, daughter.”

_Either swallow your pride or I make the call. I’m not going to stand here and watch someone die because of your personal bigotry._

The two women square off, both believing they held the moral high ground. Finally, Mother pressed both her lips into a hard line and exhales sharply through her nose. A decision has been made. Holtz knew she’d won.

“Help me move her to your bed. I can’t very well examine her on the couch.”

Again the two work together to move the now deathly pale young woman to Holtzmann’s bed in the next room. From a drawer, Mother removes a pair of latex gloves and slides them on before setting about undressing the stranger.

“I can tell from the bruising on her chest and sternum alone she has broken ribs. Those will need to be set and wrapped. Get me gauze from the medical kit. Hopefully, we’ll have enough.”

Holtzmann retrieves the needed item without a word after washing the blood from her hands. When she returns, Mother had rolled the sleeves of her blue overcoat up to her elbows and cut the blouse, bra and skirt off the woman and discarded them on the floor. Only a small pair of underwear remain, but even those would be removed. Had this been any other situation, Holtz would have blushed at the display of nudity. As it was, she couldn’t very well find the woman attractive when she was literally peppered in dark, oil-stain bruises and proverbially knocking on death’s door.

“There is blood on her skirt and on the inside of her thigh, but I see none on her underwear aside from staining from the stab wound,” Mother says matter-of-factly without looking up. Holtzmann understands the implications and feels her face scrunching into a snarl that rumbles animalistic and dark in the back of her throat. The older woman ignores her, having eyes only for her newest patient. “I won’t know if assault like that happened until I examine her thoroughly, but this stab wound is worrisome. I’m going to need help.”

 _I will help,_ Holtz snaps, handing over the gauze and preparing to retrieve a suturing kit from the few she kept on hand. Lab accident weren’t all that uncommon for the blonde.

“You don’t know the first thing about the medical treatment of a human being!” Mother bites back only to regret her tone and wince. Closing her eyes, she reigns herself back in, breathing sharply through her nose. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to raise my voice. You’ve done enough. I need someone with skilled hands and a surgical mind. Call Taft.”

Sulking despite her thirty-two years of age, Holtz bypasses using the main pipe that ran like a fat anaconda through the main room of their home and opts for the slender copper pipe next to it that belonged to the Underground’s resident surgeon.

 **Calling Taft. Calling Taft. Mother needs assistance. Come quickly. Emergency.** She taps out the message with a small wrench and waits, wondering, perhaps, if it would have been faster to radio the man or simply jog down to his apartment in the tunnels. But without fail a reply echoes back.

**Taft responding. On my way. What type of emergency?**

**Surgical. Bring kit.**

**Taft responding. Affirmed. Hold tight.**

Holtzmann moves back to her room to help Mother further undress the woman—thankful a second, more thorough examination yielded no evidence of sexual assault—gathering her bloodied clothes and depositing them in a bin. Not two minutes later, a knock and a concerned, “Hello?” alert the women to the surgeon’s arrival. Mother moves before Holtz can to intercept the man, leaving the younger woman with their impromptu patient.

“See if you can clean away as much blood from her as possible. We need to see if she has any other injuries. And make sure to keep pressure on the stab wound,” the older woman instructs without looking back to determine whether or not her daughter had heard.

“Gorin?” a visibly worried older gentleman wearing a slightly gray, well-worn sweater and tweed slacks pants from the doorway when Mother rounds the corner, salt-and-pepper hair disheveled from both interrupted sleep and his harried sprint up the tunnels. Brown eyes travel the length of the woman—searching for the source of the emergency call—and stop at the bloodied gloves she’d yet to remove. “What’s wrong? Has something happened?”

“Close the door behind you,” Gorin instructs, not wanting their conversation overhead by a wayward Undergrounder.

Still tense with worry, Taft does as he’s told. “What’s going on? I assume Holtz was the one who called? Are you all right? Do you need—“

“Jillian went Topside,” Gorin cuts in, walking a short distance into the main room but going no further. Her daughter had excellent hearing, and this wasn’t a conversation that could leave between the two of them.

The color leeches from Taft’s wrinkled face—obviously thinking the worst had happened—but a raised hand from Mother forestalls the thought before it could take root. “She brought back a Topsider who was body dumped in the park.”

“Oh God.” The surgeon’s bewildered startlement pushes him back half a step. “She brought one of them down here?”

“She is in the other room, badly beaten, and appears to have been stabbed in the side. I need your steady hands to stitch the wound closed.”  

Taft shoots the older woman a concerned look. This wasn’t just an out of the ordinary request. This was downright unheard of. Rebecca Gorin, matriarchal leader of the Undergrounders, called Mother by many, did not simply let strangers wander into her home. Ever. But there was no need to voice this obvious fact. Gorin already knew what he was thinking, and a sharp shake of her head tells him this is not the time to question her request.

“I will…see what I can do.”

“If it appears she is beyond repair,” Gorin says, stepping closer and dropping both her voice and her eyes. This close and the man could smell the linger scent of peppermint and tobacco. “I trust you will end any suffering quickly.”

Taft blinks once, understanding dawning in the next heartbeat. “Of course. I wouldn’t…want there to be _unneeded_ suffering.”

“Thank you,” Gorin inclines her head and turns. Following, Taft threads his way through the main room and nods affectionately at Holtzmann when he enters what were her private quarters before turning his attention into the bed.

“She’s certainly worse for wears,” he exhales sadly, taking in the scope of the Topsider's injuries. Despite his own reservations, Taft’s brown eyes soften a fraction. No one, Topsider or otherwise, deserved treatment like this. With methodical care, he retrieves his needed tools and lays them out on the bed before sterilizing his hands with alcohol and setting to work.

Though reassured she wasn’t needed beyond this point, Holtzmann stubbornly refuses to leave, opting to sit on a nearby table cluttered with half-made inventions, busying her hands with one trinket after another. She had so many to choose from. Silently, she watches Mother and Taft methodically stitch the stab wound closed after Taft deemed no internal damage had been done.

“That is, as far as I can tell by feel alone,” he warns. “Which is still remarkable. Either the person who did this was very skilled with a blade, or this young woman was very lucky.”

It takes more than a two hours from start to finish to patch the woman up, leaving her wrapped from hip to shoulder in snug, white gauze bandages. Holtz had successfully cleaned most of the blood from her body and face -finding soft features beneath the abuse- securing the laceration across her left eyebrow with a bandage before Taft arrived. 

“I’m afraid this is as much as I can do for now.” The surgeon strips off his gloves with precise care and stuffs them in his pocket. “From here on out, it’s up to her. I can’t say how much blood was lost between her initial assault and now, but it was probably a severe amount. Tonight will be very touch and go. You should…” he looks up at Holtzmann, eyes soft once more, “brace for the possibility this was all for not. I’m sorry.”

Holtzmann only nods, gaze once again turned to the stranger. Her heart clenches at the idea of her passing. Not because she would die in Holtzmann’s bed—which was more than a little off-putting and creepy—but because she would die from cruelty no human should suffer.

Leaving the younger woman to what was doubtlessly going to be a sleepless night, Taft takes his leave, Gorin dogging his heels, a deep scowl on her face. Tonight had not gone as planned, and she was having trouble grappling the situation.

“What are we going to do?” Taft asks quietly once they’ve reached the door. He threads his fingers through his unruly hair, puffing out his cheeks. “She can’t stay here. You know that.”

“I’m aware of how vulnerable this makes us. Should she leave and draw attention down here…” Taft senses the double meaning in Gorin’s words and straightens, tilting his head ever so slightly. “Should,” she clarifies coolly, giving him a look.

“Should…is a good word to use,” he nods slowly, eyes working a calculation only he could see. A heavy sigh expands his chest. Sometimes, the surgeon didn't enjoy his work. Reaching slowly into his bag, Taft retrieves a slender syringe and a vial filled with a pale yellow liquid. Tapping the vial, he fills the syringe, caps it, and hands it to Gorin.

“Do I need to tell you what this is?” Gorin scoffs, stowing the syringe safely away from prying eyes in the inner pocket of her overcoat. A small, sad smile lifts the corners of Taft’s lips. Their world was precious. Sometimes that meant the needs of the many outweighed the needs of the few. “I didn’t think so. Should the need arise, it never hurts to have an insurance plan against unwanted accidents.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the plot thickens! Or more of the danger ramps up. Fear not. We will get our first good look at Beast!Holtz in the next chapter. Gotta keep you all guessing until then ;) Got some surprises in store. 
> 
> Reviews literally keep me writing. Even small ones. Please and thank you =)


	4. Chapter 4

For the longest time she floats in darkness, and that’s okay. Darkness meant rest. It meant respite. It meant escape from the hell she’d fallen into, but it wasn’t meant to last. Unconsciousness, much like snow, tended to melt away in the heat of distress, and Erin’s body was screaming.

She jerks back into existence with all the gentility of a speeding truck slamming into a brick wall. Her chest expands with the need for air, only to be answered with immediate binding agony. Pain comes roaring at her like a banshee at the end of the hallway, growing louder as it neared until it was all Erin could process. Confusion hit next, a one-two-punch to her senses. The last thing she remembered was the van…the beating…the _knife_.

Her struggle upright wrenches a strangled scream from her throat. Disoriented, she can’t get her bearings. Where was she? A morgue? No, there’s something soft propping her up and something warm over her legs. A hospital? No, the room was dark but what little she could see didn’t shout sterile hospital room. Still with her captors then? 

Erin can’t breathe. Can’t see. Can’t shift enough to better gauge her surroundings. It was like an episode of sleep paralysis only she knew she was awake because never in her wildest dreams would she ever be in this much torment. Everything hurt. Everything throbbed in time with her erratic heartbeat, volcanic acid seeping through the cracks in the glue used to patch her back together.

Searching fingers run the length of her body and meet starchy gauze bound almost cruelly tight around her torso. Under the blanket covering her hips, she wears nothing and her heart rate spikes. Erin claws at her face and rips away the bandage obscuring her vision but fails in her attempt to open her swollen eye, the skin fused shut from swelling and bloody crust. Hyperventilating, sinking into an ocean-deep panic, Erin chokes on her own air and coughs wetly, setting off a domino effect of cascading levels of pain. It’s enough to make spots dance in her vision and bring stomach bile into her already scorched throat.

Her struggling must have alerted someone because through the haze of her own throttling terror Erin hears the clump of heavy boots heading her way. Instinct told her to run. Shrieked it, more like, but without the ability to even push herself up fully in the bed she occupied all Erin could do was flinch away when a figure sprints into the dimly lit room and skids to a stop.

 _Oh no,_ she hears someone—a woman by the sound of it—hurriedly gasp. _Oh no, hold on. Please don’t panic._ A light flicks on, banishing most of the darkness and revealing the stranger in her midst, but Erin’s nightmare only ramps up a notch.

This wasn’t one of her captors. This wasn’t even a human. A creature stands frozen near the foot of her bed, hands capped with black nails raised to show it wasn’t a threat, but all Erin can hone in on is its face…

Beastly was a good way of putting it. Subhuman. Its nose was wide, the bridge flaring out between its eyes rather than receding, culminating in a slightly more pronounced brow and deeper set eyes. Had Erin seen this in any other setting, it would look like a human wearing a Hollywood prosthetic, complete with peach fuzz fur running the length of its neck and furry, pointed ears poking out from under a mop of curly blonde hair…only there was nothing fake about what she was seeing. Especially not the jagged set of top and bottom canines that caused the creature’s mouth to sit slightly offset or the blue eyes so bright they almost glowed in the semi-darkness.

A scream was inevitable, but it lodges in Erin’s throat until the creature speaks.

_It’s okay! It’s okay! You’re safe, I swear! Let me just…_

Erin’s eyes bulged. The beast never moved its mouth, but she heard a voice, tinged with panic, inside her head. _Inside her head_.

The creature seemed to realize at about the same time Erin did what had happened, blue eyes widening as she retreats a step, just as frightened as Erin. The brunette catches a strangled, _Oh shit!_ brushing across her thoughts before her own mind breaks and terror takes over.

When she screams she flails, kicking away, completely ignoring her body’s own volcanic protest. _Run_. That was all she could process. _Run and never look back_. And Erin would have succeeded had her backpedal not put her off center and sent careening off the side of the bed. The impact has her seeing stars, head connecting with the unforgiving concrete. Something tears inside her. Something tears outside as well, and Erin’s choking and trembling and gasping but going nowhere fast, caught like a fish in a net, blankets tangled around her legs.

“Jillian!?” the brunette hears the shouted name but doesn’t recognize the speaker. Can hardly focus as she fades in and out with a pitiful groan.

“Jesus, did she kick off the side of the bed?” Another voice joins in, female like the first.

“Abby, help me get her up before she makes things worse. No, Jillian, you keep back.”

Lying partially on her side—face mashed against the floor—Erin sees two sets of feet come into view and tries to retreat but is pulled upright by two equally strong sets of hands. It’s an all too real reminder of the ordeal she’d been through in the van, spiking her adrenaline once more. Her good eye catches sight of the brown haired woman in front of her, and she lashes out like her life depended on it.

“Don’t! _No, don’t!_ Please, don’t hurt me!”

"Holy shit,” the woman behind Erin grunts, trying her best to hang on without causing more injury. “Honey, calm down. You’re going to hurt yourself more if you keep this up.”

“Please,” Erin begs, clutching the collar of the woman in front of her, the one with the messy brown hair and hard eyes. Pinned between two bodies, she has no place to go, and her fever-bright eyes shine with tears. “Please, d-don’t…kill me. _Please! I don’t want to die!_ ”

Gorin grinds her teeth, struggling to untangle the woman’s hand from her shirt, but it was like trying to push off a drowning victim. The poor thing was hysterical, as any normal person would be waking in a strange place and in pain. Abby, for her part, took the gentle approach, shushing Erin while trying to lay her flat lest she cause more damage to herself, but it was a losing battle. Terror gave Erin strength she shouldn’t have possessed, and it was impressive. This was a losing battle.

“My apologies.” It’s all the warning Gorin gives before pulling the syringe from her pocket, biting off the cap, and planting it in the woman’s neck.

Erin’s eyes go wide, body stiffening with a gasp at the unexpected pressure, before the sedation takes powerful effect. Between heartbeats, she goes limp and falls back. For an instant she exhales one final please before the world goes black, taking her and the pain with it.

“God, was that necessary?” Abby complains, easing Erin back and covering her naked lower half with a blanket. Even without the proper ability to see, she knew what had happened.

“I’m not going to fend off a hysterical Topsider in my home,” Gorin growls, spying the seeping red stain overtaking the bandages on Erin’s left side and swearing. Loudly. “For the love of God. Radio Taft. She popped her stitches.” 

“You could have just reassured her she was safe instead of drugging her!” Abby argues but rises and makes her way to the radio on Holtzmann’s dresser, counting her steps as she goes. “Where did Taft get those sedatives, anyway? Last I checked we were fresh out.”

Gorin doesn’t say anything, simply stowing the syringe and wrestling to reign in her temper and the shakes it woke. She can hear the exchange between her friend and the surgeon—the irritation in Abby’s voice grating against her—but it’s farther from her focus than necessary. Instead, Gorin hones in on her own body, willing the tremors to subside before Abby returns to the bed and sits on the edge, presumably looking at the Topsider.

“I’ll leave you to watch her,” Gorin announces. “I need to speak with Taft then find my daughter.”

Abby makes a face, sensing something was amiss by the tremble in Gorin’s voice, but nods anyway. “Sure, yeah, leave the _blind woman_ to watch over the possibly violent outsider. That’s smart. Nothing could _possibly_ happen with _that_ genius plan.”

“I trust you’ll manage. If she gets out of hand, use your cane,” Gorin snorts, heading for the front room. Behind her, she hears, “I have a mind to use it on you first!” and can’t help but roll her eyes. On her way to the door, Gorin pauses by a set of drawers overtaken by books and stacks of papers and digs out a bottle, dry-swallowing two pills. She gives herself a moment to regain composure, unceremoniously chugging the rest of her lukewarm tea to help the calming process.

Taft is slower getting to her this time round, his duties in the Underground keeping him busy for a length of time. When he eventually knocks on Gorin’s door her shakes are gone and she can focus again, though her temper isn’t much improved.

“I assume from Abby’s message our Topsider lived through the night?” he asks as he’s ushered in.

“It appears that way.”

“Put up a fight, eh? That’s surprising for her kind.”

“She woke in a foreign place in pain. I wouldn’t expect anything less.” Gorin bites out, not in the mood for conversation. Taft picks up on this unwillingness to exchange even menial pleasantries, but he has something for Mother, which he retrieves from his pocket.

“Her name is Erin Gilbert. She’s a District Attorney and the daughter of Christopher Gilbert, the man currently running for a Supreme Court position in Washington.”

Gorin looks at the missing person’s flier, mouth setting in a thin line. It had only been two days and already fliers were going up. The picture certainly looked like the woman currently unconscious in the next room. Under the swelling and bruises, she was a pretty thing at exactly forty, according to the physical description printed below the photo. Her smile was genuine. Her features the kind of soft commonly found in those who grew up in an easy life, but her eyes were sharp. Sharper than Gorin was comfortable with.

“The police believe her abduction might have something to do with the mob.”

At the mention of the mod, Gorin’s head snaps up, expression severe. “Which family?”

“My Helper source didn’t say, but they think Falconi. That’s the running theory. Falconi had a hit out on one of his call girls, so says word in the pipes. Maybe this was a case of mistaken identity?”

“Or maybe our Topsider has a few secrets of her own.” Gorin folds the paper and exchanges it out for the syringe, which she hands to Taft.

He cocks his head curiously when he notices how little solution is left. “How much?”

“Enough to sedate,” Gorin replies coolly. What would have proven a fatal dose of sedative remains behind in the syringe.

The man raises a bushy eyebrow that arches over the rim of his glasses. “Are you sure this is wise? Your mind was more or less made up when last we spoke.”

“No, I am not. Especially with this woman connected to the DA and possibly the mob,” Gorin exhales, pinching the bridge of her nose. “But I cannot stomach the thought of having blood on my hands. Not again. Not if I can help it. I am permitted to have second thoughts.”

“Yes, but what’s one less Topsider in the grand scale of things?”

The older woman turns, cold stare turning icy. “I am not willing to make that decision and play god, Taft. Let fate determine whether she lives or dies.”

Taft snorts and rolls his eyes. “You don’t believe in fate, Gorin, or god.”

“Tonight I believe in one of those things. Now, please see to your patient. When she woke there was a bit of a scuffle and she popped her stitches.”

The surgeon nods, making a mental calculation in his head as he rummages through his bag. “I’m going to need my medical supply refreshed at this rate.”

“I will make the necessary call. Thank you, Taft. Abby is waiting in the other room. She’ll help you.”

“You won’t be joining me?”

“I need to speak with my daughter.” And with that Gorin heads in the direction of Holtzmann’s lab. She’d seen the distress on her daughter’s face the moment the Topsider woke screaming, even if it was quickly smothered under a well-worn mask. Having raised Holtz, Gorin knew her ticks better than anyone, save perhaps Abby, and there wasn’t a doubt in her mind coming face-to-face with someone unused to her peculiar visage had rattled her more than Holtz was willing to admit. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there we go! First look at our Beast!Holtz. More to come, obviously. Just gotta let Erin kind of calm down? Also, something to note. This story is going to take place in the early 2000's. I know the show was set in 1987, but for the sake of what I have in store I'm moving it up a bit. Just a fair warning when I reference something that CLEARLY wasn't there in the 80's. 
> 
> Reviews literally help me write faster. Please and thank you =)


	5. Chapter 5

Holtzmann tries to concentrate on the pipe she’s soldering inside her machine, but her mind wouldn’t remain on task. She can’t focus, even with a torch in hand, heat billowing around her in smoky plumes. The image of the Topsider screaming and backpedaling away from her kept popping up in her mind like a sadistic jack-in-the-box. Each time the scene played, Holtz’s chest would clench. She ran over the scenario again and again but couldn’t figure out how to make it right. 

“Jillian?”

Holtz pretends not to hear her mother and cranks up the oxygen on her torch, making the flame burn blue. Tinted goggles down, she hopes the illusion of activity would send her mother on her way, but she should have known better.

“Jillian, please come down,” Gorin calls from the bottom of the steel and copper behemoth sitting like the trunk of some mechanical tree in the center of Holtzmann’s lab. She could see her daughter’s leg dangling out from an open duct towards the ceiling, the flame of an acetylene torch turning the nook bluish-white.

 _I’m setting the pipes._ It’s a flimsy lie. In fact, rice paper probably could have held up better. When Holtz was truly working there was music playing in her lab like an instrumental pulse. Tonight the room was silent save for the guttural whir of her torch and the occasional clang of a wrench.

“We need to talk. Please don’t make me climb up there. My knees wouldn’t appreciate it.” Despite there being a small bit of jest to Gorin’s tone, her smile is tight and short lived.

Exhaling through her nose, Holtz cuts off the torch but doesn’t descend from her perch, instead reclining on the lip of the nook, hands resting on her knees. She pulls off her goggles, revealing a rim of soot staining her skin. _I don’t…want to talk right now._

“I know you’re upset.” No beating around the bush here. It wasn’t Gorin’s style.

 _I’m not upset,_ Holtz argues, picking at the hole in the knee of her pants. From the ground, Gorin gives her daughter a pointed look through her dark rimmed glasses which the younger woman can’t hold for long before looking away. _I’m_ not _upset. I…I’m disappointed. In myself. I didn’t mean to scare her._

The older woman sighs and rubs absently at the back of her neck, feeling the stretch of her age despite her best efforts. This was what she wanted to avoid. This exact situation. Gorin raised her daughter without shying away from the topic of Holtzmann’s looks, instilling in her a sense of self-pride. From the beginning, she’d insisted on teaching the blonde that she was different but that difference didn’t make her better or worse than the people around her. It was just how nature intended her to be, and there was nothing to be ashamed of. Yes, there were instances of friction and tears were shed—even the nicest people could say cruel things when they didn’t think sharp ears were listening—but as a whole, the Underground treated Holtz as a normal functioning human because, regardless of her appearance, she was.

But the Topside…it would never accept Holtzmann for anything more than a freak of nature, and that broke Gorin’s heart.

“I’ve raised you to never be ashamed of yourself. You are what you are, Jillian, and that’s the end of it,” Gorin says with firm gentility, hands planted on her hips.

 _My looks don’t bother me,_ Holtz turns to her mother, motioning at her face. _I know what I look like. I know it’s not normal, and I know it can be a bit…shocking, at first. I know this. I understand this, and I’m still proud of who I am. But I scared her, Mother, and that wasn’t my intention. I just wanted to help, and I made things worse. I made_ her _worse, and that hurts._

“You didn’t do it intentionally.”

_Regardless of intention, it happened._

Gorin can’t help but cross her arms, lips pressed into a thin line. “Yes, it did, and this is why I’m so selective about those from the Topside I bring down here.”

 _Leaving her wasn’t an option._ There’s a bite to Holtzmann’s words, a snarl rumbling low in the back of her throat.

“You should have—“ Gorin stops herself from sinking into an unnecessary and fruitless battle. Arguing with her daughter was like trying to fight a storm with a kite, especially when her mind was made up. So she exhales slowly instead—taking off her glasses to scrub at the bridge of her nose—releasing the tension that had built in her shoulders. “You have a kind heart. Kinder than this world deserves, but I don’t want to see my daughter hurt by someone not from our world. Now, please come down out of your nest, little bird. We have work to do.”

 _Wouldn’t it be more of Pride Rock than a nest? Aunt Abby always called me cub,_ Holtz smirks lightly.

“Jillian…” There’s a warning in Gorin’s tone, just the barest hint of irritation.

 _All right,_ the blonde drolls dramatically, rolling her eyes. With a few well-placed leaps and a slid down a main pipe, Holtz lands nimbly at her mother’s side, wiping her oily hands on her overalls. She’s pulled into a hug the moment she straightens, one that’s just a bit too tight but all too familiar. There’s little resistance on her part, sinking into Gorin’s embrace. In all of the Underground there was no happier place for the tunnel rat than in her mother’s arms, even if they quarreled more often than not. The old against the new. It was bound to happen, but Holtzmann loved her mother dearly, even if her ways were antiquated and brittle.

“I love you, Jillian,” Gorin mutters into Holtz’s hair. Leaning back, she clears soot from her face with her thumb like she’d done so many times in the past, smiling when blues eyes meet hazel ones. “My strange and wonderful daughter. I just want you safe and happy.”

_I know._

Gorin chews her lip briefly, weighing her next few words. “Let me and Abby take care of the Topsider from here on out. Let her think you were just a fever dream. When she’s healed enough to move, we’ll take her back Topside and be done with it, but for your sake, stay away.”

_She’s kind of in my room. How am I supposed to come and go without being seen?_

“Abby’s with her now—“

 _You left Abby alone with a Topsider?_ Holtz makes an incredulous face.

“Abby is perfectly capable of taking care of herself and an incapacitated patient.”

_Abby’s blind._

“You know that’s not necessarily true. _Anyway_ ,” Gorin presses onward, “if you need something either I or Abby will get it. I can’t help these are the cards we’ve been dealt.”

Holtzmann doesn’t have to look hard to see the double meaning in her mother’s words. They were in this situation because of her. Still, it was a good plan even if it made Holtz’s heart heavy. Not only had her attempt to help someone backfired spectacularly, she’d lost the opportunity to pursue an avenue of curiosity that went far deeper than her mother realized. The Topside was a mysterious world caught only in glimpses and snippets from the grates above and the few adventures that took Holtz through Central Park. She can’t help but think back to one of her favorite movies and the line that stuck with her: _‘All my life I’ve wondered how it feels to pass a day, not above them, but as part of them.’._ This Topsider, this woman, was the key to a world Holtz desperately wanted access to, and now the opportunity had been squandered. Disappointment wasn’t even the beginning of what she felt.

 _I understand,_ she agrees, trying hard not to let her shoulders slump.

“Good,” Gorin kisses her forehead. “I know this wasn’t what you wanted, but it’s for the best.”

 _For who_? Holtz wanted to ask but wisely kept that thought to herself, nodding instead.

“Are you at a stopping point?” Gorin asks, looking up at the hydroelectric machine beginning to take shape. Truly, her daughter was a marvel, building something like this in the bowels of the New York tunnels with minimal supplies and tools.

 _For now,_ Holtz nods in the direction of her creation. _I need more scrap and solder if I’m going to get the pipes aligned. After that comes the pressure system._

“Then I need you to run an errand for me. Taft has run short of medical supplies, so I’m arranging a meeting with a Helper. Can you pick up the order at the Manhattan entrance?”

Holtz brightens, knowing which Helper Mother was talking about. _Have you radioed him?_

“Not yet. Why?”

_Jonson knows Lucas. He can get me the scrap delivery I missed._

Gorin nods. “I’ll let him know. Maybe I’ll even ask him to deliver a pie along with it.”

Beaming now—showing the impressive length of her sharp teeth—Holtz whoops and kisses her mother’s cheek in thanks. If there was one thing that could brighten any New Yorker’s mood it was a decent slice of pizza. _Lombardi’s?_

Gorin scoffs and rolls her eyes, already walking out of the lab. “Rays, of course.”

_Lombardi’s is so much better! How can you stand those imposters?_

“Fine. Fine,” the older woman relents, unable to keep from smiling now. “Lombardi’s it is. Abby will be _thrilled_ she’s corrupted you so thoroughly.”

 _Must have been a trait I inherited from my biological mother,_ Holtz teases, poking Gorin in the side.

“I’d imagine. No flesh and blood of mine would ever eat squalor like that,” Gorin shoots back with a wink and a grin, happy to see her daughter smiling again. They make their way back inside the main house, Gorin heading to the radio while Holtz prepared a sack of tradable goods for the exchange. She makes light work of packing for a journey that would last most of the day, happy for the distraction. Well, partial distraction. When Gorin moves off to grab something for an appointment she had with a group of Undergrounders, Holtz steals a look in the direction of her room. It's quick. Only the dart of her eyes, but her mind was already working well-worn calculations. She'd spent her life skirting rules. It would be senseless to start obeying now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little fluff and bonding. I love writing these two. Don't worry, we'll be getting back to our regularly scheduled angst next chapter =) Also, just a general heads up. This week I start my full university class load, so updates might be a little slower. Bear with me, I'm not stopping any of my stories, just gotta focus on school work first.
> 
> Reviews literally help me write faster. Please and thank you!


	6. Chapter 6

The passage was tight and unbelievably dark. Tighter and darker than she remembered it being, but then again Holtz hadn’t used this particular entrance in a while. Years probably, judging by the dust creeping into her nose.

Climbing the creaking rope ladder one rung at a time, she feels for the hatch above—not sure how many slats of wood separated the bottom of the shaft from the top—and is more than a little relieved when her fingers brush smooth steel. Gently and as smoothly as possible, Holtz lifts the hatch and quietly crawls into the chamber above, ears perked for any sign of movement. She’s careful not to bump the ceiling seeing as the ceiling was the underside of her bed and there was a presumably sleeping Topsider residing there. No sense terrifying the poor woman more. Then again she _was_ crawling out from under the bed…perhaps it wasn’t the best place for a secret entrance when thought about in retrospect.

_Can’t really help that now._

Oh, Holtz had kept her promise to stay away from her room and the woman resting there for as long as possible. A whole fourteen hours. That was a record for her, to be sure. One she would proudly look back on as she smashed through her promise…well, more like army-crawled. Smashing involved making sound, and that wasn’t something she wanted to do right now.

Feeling around in the dark, her fingertips locate the latch for the hidden door and pop it open. Low light peeks through the crack. Holtz stops. Listens. Extends her senses into the room beyond but can’t hear anything save for the soft breathing of the Topsider and the distant tapping of conversations taking place in the pipes.

 _Perfect_.

Repositioning, Holtz wiggles forward on her stomach and manages to get her shoulders through the opening before someone clears their throat. Startled, she jumps, thumping her head against the wood frame and fighting back a pained yelp.

“Nice of you to join us.”

Looking around through her wince, Holtz spots the speaker sitting in a chair not three feet from her and exhales her tension. It could have been worse. _How did you know it was me?_

“Was that a crack at my lack of sight?” Abby tilts her head, lips quirking.

_No?_

“Good, cause I was going to say I knew it was you because of the smell of maternal betrayal, but that would be mean. Also, I always knew you had something like this in here, I just didn’t know where.”

 _You gonna rat me out?_ Holtz asks warily, rubbing her head.

Abby makes a rude noise with her mouth. “Good thing I’m the fun aunt and not your mother.”

Crawling the rest of the way out and dusting herself off, Holtz takes quick stock of the room and is happy to discover no one else present. _Did Mother make you stay?_

Abby settles back, crossing her arms. “ _Someone_ has to make sure our guest doesn’t try to run on broken ribs again. Now, why are you sneaking into your room?”

 _I wasn’t sneaking anywhere,_ Holtz deflects with a sniff. _I was testing to see if my old tunnels are still accessible._

“Sweetie, how long have I been in your life?” Abby deadpans, taking off her dark shades as if they made seeing through the lie easier. Her milky eyes eerily track Holtzmann as she shifts away from the bed. “If I recall, _I’m_ the one who taught you how to sneak. You are talking to the sneaking master, young Padawan, and I am appalled you have forgotten your training.”

 _Forgive, Master_. Holtz pantomimes a scraping bow, settling at Abby’s feet and clutching her ankles pleadingly. _Holtzy is but a simple tunnel rat. She forgets so quickly the ways of the Masters._

“Buttering me up will get you everywhere,” Abby chuckles, not bothering to push the younger woman off. “So what do you want?”

That was a very good question, and Holtzmann’s hesitance speaks volumes.

“Ah, curiosity it is. You know what they say about that.”

_Good thing I’m not a cat. I just wanted to check on her. She wasn’t doing well earlier._

“That’s on account of you scaring the shit out of her, Holtzy. You know how her people are.” Even without proper sight, Abby can tell her comment struck a nerve and winces. “That sounded better in my head, I’m sorry.”

_I mean, you’re not wrong. I just…feel bad for what happened. I didn’t think…_

“Because you’re so used to people down here and how open they are with you,” Abby fills in. “You might be a genius, my little tunnel pup, but you can be unbelievably stupid sometimes. I mean that in the most loving way possible. You got smarts but no street smarts”

 _I know,_ Holtz pouts, shoulders drooping.

“Ah, but goddamnit, I still love yah.” Digging something out of her shirt, the older woman hands over a piece of paper. The blonde takes it with a scrunched brow that quickly smooths and lifts into a surprised expression the more she reads.

“Since I know you and how you operate, her name is Erin Gilbert,” Abby proceeds, head still turned in Holtz’s direction. “Some type of DA Topside. Father’s a judge, from what your mother told me. No idea why she went missing, but the circumstances are murky.”

Holtzmann wasn’t honestly listening. She caught the name, but after that everything fell away, finding herself captivated by the woman looking back at her from the crumpled paper. Erin was beautiful. That’s the first thing she thinks. She was beautiful and apparently smart—not everyone was cut out to be a DA—and had a smile that could light up a room. It stirred something in Holtzmann’s chest, shifting a mass just below her sternum, releasing what felt like swarm of butterflies into the cavity.

“Hey, tunnel rat? You home?”

Holtz jerks and looks up, snapping out of her trance. _What?_

“Jeeze, you stare any harder at that flier and it’s going to burst into flames.”

_I was reading it._

Abby remains unconvinced. “I might be blind, but even I can feel the intensity your throwing at that poor scrap of tree dandruff.”

Holtz rolls her eyes, happy Abby couldn’t see the color creeping into her cheeks. _She’s very beautiful,_ she hedges, taking a moment to step closer to her bed and the sleeping woman occupying it. For comparison reasons. That’s all. Just that. Yep.

“Gosh, I wouldn’t know!” Abby gasps dramatically, waving a hand in front of her face to emphasize her point, one which the blonde completely ignores.

_I wonder what happened…_

“My best guess? Wrong place wrong time. A girl like that doesn’t get involved in dicey shit. Not with a father who’s a judge and a promising career as a DA.” Abby moves to standing, carefully edging past Holtz so she can return the brale book she’d snagged from one of the many bookshelves cluttering the room. “So what’s your endgame here, Holtz?”

Again there’s hesitance from the younger woman, her reply slow to come. _I don’t think I have one._

“I find that hard to believe. You brought a Topsider down here knowing full well what your mother and the rest of us would think. Why not call a Helper? You were meeting Lucas that night.”

Holtz didn’t like the tone Abby was taking with her and frowns. _She was hurt, and I didn’t really stop to think. Why is it so difficult to grasp that I just wanted to help someone? Why do people down here cringe every time the Topside is mentioned? They’re people just like us! I’d have done the same thing for you if you were in a similar situation._

“Relax, pup,” Abby pats the air. “I’m not judging you, and I’m not upset either. I’m just curious about what happens next. Your mother told you to stay away yet here you are.”

_What does someone do when they are told no?_

“So this is rebellion?”

 _I just…_ Holtz rakes her hands through her hair, snarling a little in frustration. She wasn’t good with this. Wasn’t good with how her mind worked and how she felt about things. It made sense to her but voicing it turned everything into muddy soup. _I just want to help. That’s what I do. I help and create and build. I can’t give you a better explanation. I also want to learn. I want to know about the Topside and the people up there. I’m restless down here. Everything’s too small. I know all the faces. I just…I want something new._

“This woman isn’t a toy for your amusement, honey. She’s going to leave once she better and will likely never return.”

 _I never said she was,_ Holtz growls.

“She can’t see you either, Holtz. You know that. I know you’re curious, but this,” Abby motions at her face, her own marked with scarring around her milky eyes, “is going to make conversing with her damn near impossible.”

_I’m aware of that, Abby. Pretty sure I know better than anyone how people react when they see me for the first time._

A quiet groan and the sound of blankets shifting stop the women mid-conversation, two sets of eyes turning to the bed.

“Well, that was well-timed. There’s your cue to scat.”

Which, logically, it was, but Holtz’s feet wouldn’t allow her to move. Too many conflicting signals from her brain. Instead, she whirls around and tucks herself into a beanbag chair beside one of her many bookshelves, wedging good and tight into the shadows. Hood drawn, she all but disappears.

“What are you doing?” Abby hisses.

_Observing._

“Damnit, this isn’t birdwatching, Holtzmann. Your mother is going to kill the both of us if this woman starts screaming again.”

_I’m doing what I do best, Abby. Being invisible. Just…do this for me. Please?_

“I have to be out of my fucking mind,” Abby mutters but doesn’t try to make the blonde leave. Instead, she takes a seat again and prays this little excursion of Holtzmann’s doesn’t end up with her having to wrestle the Topsider again. 

There was no point trying to decipher how long she’d been unconscious this time. There were no windows. No glimpse of the outside world in any direction. For all Erin knew, it could have been days. Or it could have been a handful of hours. There was no telling.

This time, it hadn’t been pain that dragged her from sleep but rather the sound of voices. Blinking sleep crust from her vision, she isn’t able to escape the volcanic ache of her body once full consciousness returns. Her head joins the mix—stinging from her fall—but is just another drop in the molten bucket. Her groan is gravely, throat parched to the point it felt like her tongue had swelled and was trying to take over her mouth. Judging by the cracks along her bottom lip, her tongue wasn’t the only thing in sore need of water.

 _Is that how they're going to kill me?_ she wonders groggily. _Dehydrate me to death?_

It seemed a foolish thing to do: bandage someone only to leave them to die in incapacitation. A waste of materials and time, if Erin was being logical, which she wasn’t. She was still more than a little terrified and the pain didn’t help with that, only adding to the delirium settling around her like a fuzzy cloud. Then again, it could have been whatever the brown haired woman had injected her with…who was to say? So when her hazy vision eventually drifts to the side of the bed and she spies a woman sitting there, Erin doesn’t react immediately. Not like she had before when the creature had been at the foot of her bed. That was just a nightmare, Erin was sure. A hallucinations brought on by pain and blood loss. But this person. This person looked real enough.

“Are you…going to kill me?”

Why did she ask that? What possessed her to put that thought into the mind of someone who may do exactly what she feared? Again, she blamed the delirium. If she could have she would have slapped her forehead, but the idea of lifting her arms made her nauseous.

The woman sighs and shifts in her chair, fiddling with her glasses. Only then does Erin realize she’s wearing a thick pair of dark shades that cover most of her upper face. “You always start conversations with strangers like that?”

From across the room, Holtz has to fight back slapping her forehead. _Jesus, Abby, what the hell?_

“No, we’re not going to kill you.” Abby tries to sound reassuring, but it comes off as patronizing. “You’re too damn feisty, and I don’t feel like being elbowed in the ribs again.”

“Where am I?” Erin asks weakly, wrestling the pain and exhaustion playing tug of war with her mind.

“Someplace safe. I know it’s not a reassuring answer, but it’s all I can give you. You’re safe, so that’s all that should matter.”

“Th-thirsty.”

“That I _can_ give you.”

Erin watches the woman carefully move around the bed until she’s intercepted by another figure who seemed to materialize out of nowhere and scurries over to a nearby faucet. In her groggy state, Erin thinks nothing of it, fading in and out, but Abby’s quick to glare at Holtz.

 _“What are you doing?”_ she signs with her hands, making absolutely sure her back was to the Topsider. Before it became known Holtzmann could communicate telepathically, Abby had taught her and Gorin sign language. One of the benefits of going blind later in life, according to Abby. She’d picked up a useful skill. They rarely used signing now, though there were some in the Underground Holtz couldn’t speak to with her mind for reasons unknown.

_Helping._

_“You aren’t helping your halping. That’s the opposite of helping.”_

Holtz ignores her and hands over a filled cup, which Abby refuses to take. _“Oh no. If you’re so invested in this, you’re going to help too. You give it to her.”_

_But she might see—_

_“Give it to her or do as your mother says and stay away. Make your decision now.”_

Jaw set, Holtz double checks to make sure her hood is pulled up good and high before approaching the bed, struggling to ignore how dry her throat had become. She doesn’t hand Erin the glass of water directly, knowing she’d be too weak to grip it. Instead, she helps her sit up and drink her fill—the brunette swallowing greedily and with little decorum, hardly paying attention to who was caring for her.

It was a big glass, and Erin drains it all. For an instant, the cold water banished all trace of agony, and for the first time in what felt like a mini-eternity, she can exhale. It’s little reprieve but a needed one.

“Thank you…”

 _Holtzmann,_ Holtz says shakily, keeping her head ducked enough her hair hides most of her face.

“Thank you, Holtzmann.”

Hearing her name from the other woman’s lips sets fire to her blood in an unforeseen rush. Not trusting herself to converse further without giving away her identity, Holtz quickly retreats, feeling Abby’s stare on the back of her neck as she does.

“If you think you can get to the kitchen without tripping over your feet, get her some food, yeah? Poor thing must be starving,” Abby says aloud, catching Holtz’s arm as she darts past. The blonde manages a nod before hurrying out of the room, heart a battery ram in her chest and the smile on her face making her cheeks ache.

From that point on Abby and Holtz begin juggling the responsibility of caring for Erin while simultaneously dodging Mother and keeping suspicion down. Holtz knew this was a dicey game. She walked a knife’s edge every time she walked into her room to deliver food or water--always covered from head to heel with a black wrap around her face. She was risking exposure to a possibly hostile Topsider as well as defying her mother’s direct order, but the rewards outweighed the risks. For now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, look at this! Still managed a chapter between soul-crushing school work! Hooray! Now I'm gonna drag my tired ass back to the daily grind. 
> 
> Reviews help me write faster and honestly soothe my tired soul! Please and thank you!


	7. Chapter 7

Over the next few days, Holtz gleans what little she can about Erin during her visits. It takes the Topsider time to wrangle her mind away from the haze of pain, but every day she grew sharper and more aware of her surroundings, helped along by the hooded stranger who brought her food and water as regularly as Abby did.

In the rare instances the two spoke, Erin would ask a repetitious set of questions centered around where she was and who the Undergrounders were, obviously curious about Holtz’s appearance. The blonde made sure she was covered from head to heel whenever she visited, wrapping her face and going so far as wearing yellow-tinted goggles to further distort her troubling features. She looked like an extra from a steampunk apocalypse movie, something Erin found strange, but then again, she was in a strange place, so it shouldn’t have been as off-putting as it was.

Holtz deflected as many of Erin’s questions as possible, keeping answers vague or turning them back on the brunette. Seldom would Erin actually answer with whole truths, but sometimes Holtz got half an answer that let her peek into the life of the woman who had inexplicably dropped into her life. She was a lawyer—Holtz didn’t reveal she knew about Erin being a DA—lived in an apartment somewhere in Manhattan, didn’t have any pets, enjoyed reading, loved Asian food, didn’t have a preferred pizza preference, and enjoyed the occasional documentary. All Erin gleaned from Holtz was that she’d lived in the Underground all her life, the constant tapping sound were people communicating with one another, and that they were inexplicably still in New York.

“How is that possible?” Erin arched an eyebrow, clearly not believing. “Tunnel and sewer engineers would have found out years ago.”

_It’s an old system, and we are very good at keeping hidden._

With a routine set, Erin’s healing process could begin, but it was slow going and excruciating. Without the full range of standard hospital medicine, Erin was forced to endure her recovery in the raw without painkillers or sedatives—Mother refused to use any more of Taft’s supply on the Topsider—which meant Erin woke crying more times than she wanted to admit, the pain cruelly dragging her from the depths of rest.

Sometimes she could wrestle her unconsciousness back and drift into a milky haze somewhere between asleep and awake. Sometimes, the agony was enough to render her a sobbing mess until exhaustion claimed her. And any plea she managed to choke into the semi-darkness was met with silence. Erin thought no one could hear her, but someone did. Every time. And it killed Holtz just a little more each night to hear the woman cry out for relief that would never come.

Tonight was no different. The pain had Erin in its grip, stunting her breathing and making her feel like she was slowly suffocating. Tears rolled in hot lines down her face. She curled her fingers to the point of cramping into the blankets under her, jaw sore from bearing down on her molars.

 _I’m sorry_ , the voice drifted from the shadows, startling Erin enough she flinched, causing sparks to flare in her vision. _I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to help._

Erin knew who was speaking without having to look. “It hurts,” she grits out, fighting not to squirm. It was like her body was trying to pry itself away from itself. If only she could shift in _just_ the right way, she’d find the perfect position… “It never stops.”

 _I know. I…_ Erin hears an audible sigh and tilts her head in the direction of the sound. _I only have what’s available to us down here, which isn’t much. But…when I was little, something that helped me through hard times was when Mother read to me. I could…do the same for you. It might take you mind off the pain._

It’s a strange request. So much so, Erin momentarily forgets her discomfort. No one ever read to her, not even her parents when she was little. They just weren’t the type, so the strange notion sits untouched in her mind before she finds herself nodding, desperate for anything to take her mind off the here and now. Realizing Holtzmann couldn’t see her gesture of affirmation, Erin voices a strained, “Okay,” between hard swallows.

A shadow pulls away from the wall, silent as a wraith. This was nothing abnormal—Holtzmann was stealthy to a fault sometimes and frequently appeared near Erin without her having heard anyone approach—but for a split second Erin’s heartrate involuntarily spikes. She sees flashes of hands reaching for her, dragging her backward into a van. The pain in her side flares like a sinister reminder of an ordeal she was still muddling through.

As if the hooded figure could sense her fear, Holtz stops, holding a stiff pose. _I’ll leave if you tell me to._ Again, this was commonplace. Holtzmann was acutely aware of the woman’s discomfort and never did anything without an affirmation of consent. Her asking Erin if she wanted her to leave was a precursor to most of their conversations.

Erin can’t bring herself to speak, however, shaking her head instead. Holtz sees this and continues along her predetermined path. Pausing at a bookshelf, she retrieves a well-worn paperback and comes to the side of the bed farthest from Erin.

_There’s a chair here. Is it all right if I sit?_

“Yes.”

_There's also a cup of water near me, would you like me to hand it to you?_

“Please.” Erin only jumps a little when she feels gloved fingers brush the top of her hand as a cup is slid into her palm. Shaking, she manages to swallow two large mouthfuls of water before settling back.

 _I hope you don’t mind fantasy. It’s my favorite genre._ Despite Erin believing Holtz couldn’t see her due to the dimness of the room, the blonde does and spies a faint smile curl her lips. _Let’s begin then._ Erin hears pages being turned. _Chapter one.“Mr. and Mrs. Dursley of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.”_

Surprised, Erin actually turns her head, eyebrow quirking. “Are you reading me…Harry Potter?”

 _Is that a problem?_ There’s a calculating wariness to Holtzmann’s voice. Erin feels herself being judged.

“No…just unexpected.”

_Sometimes unexpected is a good thing. Keeps you on your toes and makes life less bland. Now, where were we? “They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense.”_

Erin settles back as best she can, listening to the Undergrounder’s voice as she melodically moved through chapters. Eventually, sleep catches back up to Erin, prompting Holtz to bookmark their place and leave after pulling the covers over the sleeping woman. Her hands only shake a little when she draws back, but her heart continued to slam away in her chest long after she’d left the room.

This became a nightly routine regardless of Erin’s pain level. Holtz would come to her once the lights had been dimmed and resume reading. Sometimes, Holtz would get through multiple chapters and catch herself drifting to sleep, head lolling drowsily. Sometimes, Erin would fall asleep early on, and Holtzmann would shamelessly remain in her chair after closing the book, goggles pulled up and scarf down, eyes drifting over the woman, pondering things that had never crossed her mind until now.

In fact, Holtz was doing a lot of thinking as of late, and what a dangerous pastime that was for a genius tunnel rat like her. It wasn’t like she was unaccustomed to being stuck in her head. More often than not, that’s where Holtz spent the majority of her time, but something was changing in her. Something she couldn’t exactly put into words, and that frustrated her. Holtzmann prided herself on her ability to break complex things down in her mind. It’s how she built and created. It’s how she functioned, but whatever this change, this enigma, was it remained out of reach and grew in intensity the closer she got to Erin.

Feeling the weight of her funk turn her pensive, Holtz idly toyed with a gear set soon to be added to her hydroelectric machine. It didn’t dawn on her she was zoning out with a lit soldering torch in hand until the flame licked across her sleeve, setting the fabric alight. With a yelp, she quickly attempted to smother the flames under a nearby rag only to realize too late it was coated in a highly flammable grease. The resulting incident involved a lot of flailing, very quick disrobing, and excited shirt-stomping in order to extinguish the flames. By the end, Holtz was sufficiently rattled and pushes out a gusty exhale, hands raking through her sweaty hair.

 _Oh my god, what are you doing?_ she berates herself. _You bring home a Topsider and suddenly you’re a mess. Well, you were already a mess to begin with, but still! Get a grip before you accidentally blow this entire lab._

 Looking forlornly at her lab coat and the right arm of her charred hoodie, she knows a replacement is in order. But that would require a trek to her room…out of schedule. Holtz didn’t have the slightest clue if Mother was about or not—the woman could move like a wraith through the tunnels—and she couldn’t very well risk using her secret entrance in the event Erin was awake, which left only one option.

_I have to be out of my mind._

It would be fast. She’d be covered and move quickly. Just grab a spare hoodie and coat and leave. No big deal. Abby was supposed to be in there by now, so Erin would be distracted.

Hurrying through the hallways that made up her subterranean home, Holtz kept an ear out for signs her mother. So far so good. Turning a tight corner and practically bolting through the main room, the blonde uses her fast momentum to swing herself around the final corner and almost falls flat on her face when she struggles to a stop.

Erin was awake and standing braced against the wall closest to the bed. Abby was nowhere to be found.

 _Tesla’s left testicle!_ Holtz swears to herself, spinning quickly before Erin could see her partially uncovered face. Readjusting the scarf over her nose and mouth, she pulls her yellow goggles nesting in her hair over her eyes.

“Oh, umm…hello,” Erin greets, voice betraying her physical discomfort. Clearly, standing up unassisted was a new venture for her, and she was feeling it. Holtz also couldn’t help notice how tall the woman was, even barefoot.

 _Hi! Hello, yes…umm…s-sorry to barge in like this. I—uh…_ Holtz stammers, speech becoming stilted as she attempted to wrangle her thoughts into a cohesive string of sentences. _I just needed to grab something. Just gonna…move over here…_

Moving in a cartoonish scurry, Holtz rips open her dresser only to realize a second later she couldn’t very well _change_ in front of Erin. There were things she was bound to notice, and even the small distance between them was burning with the intensity of Erin’s stare. Swallowing a curse, the blonde digs out a replacement hoodie, fully prepared to bolt out of her room, when the other woman nervously clears her throat.

“I…umm, could you…help me? You look like you’re in a hurry, and I’m sorry but…”

 _Is everything okay?_ Holtz asks without turning, still bent over her drawer.

“I need to use the…restroom, and I don’t think I can make it on my own,” Erin says a little shyly having recognized her overeager mistake before Holtzmann arrived. “Your friend Abby usually helps me, but she hasn’t shown yet and things are getting a little urgent.” The brunette laughs out of nervousness, her smile a bit too forced.

Holtzmann bounces from foot to foot, unsure what to do. She would help, of course, but so many things could go wrong. Up until this point, she and Erin hadn’t touched one another. Distance was Holtz’s best source of anonymity. Up close, Erin was bound to notice there was something off about her hooded helper. But she couldn’t just leave the woman to walk to the bathroom alone.

 _Of course,_ the blonde nods, slowly moving to the bed, heart pounding so hard she wondered if Erin could see it beating through her hoodie. 

“Thank you,” Erin signs in relief. Slinging her arm around Holtz’s shoulder when the woman finally nears, she can’t help but feel the other woman tremble a little when she gingerly wraps her arm around Erin’s waist for support, careful to avoid the healing stab wound.

“Are you all right?”

 _Peachy keen,_ Holtz grunts, eyes forward, desperately trying to block out how warm the Topsider felt against her side or how easily she fit into her grip.

Erin doesn't comment on the fact she knew the Undergrounder was lying. It wasn't her place and this wasn't a case she was trying to win. Instead, she merely nods but wrinkles her nose when she catches a whiff of something burnt and notices the state of Holtzmann’s right arm. “Oh my god, did you burn yourself?”

Holtz freezes, almost dropping her charge. A slow, nervous nod and a, _Soldering torch bit me. No biggie,_ is all she can manage.

“You work with fire down here?” Erin can’t keep her worried surprise from showing. Underground fires…that was a recipe for disaster.

 _I have a lab,_ Holtz replies honestly, brightening when an idea hits. She motions to her face. _Hence the goggles and scarf. Fumes and debris are a bitch when they get into your lungs._

Surprise notwithstanding, Erin has to nod in agreement, seeing the logic. Granted, the idea of these people, whoever they were, having a laboratory underground was unsettling and raised so many questions.

Holtz leaves the brunette at the curtained door leading into the bathroom, though bathroom was a general term. Domestic plumbing in the Underground wasn’t exactly possible, but with modifications and extensions made to pipes, basic amenities like outhouse-style toilets—fed directly into a gray water pipeline—were possible. Baths were another story.

Emerging a short time later, Erin appeared greatly relieved and leans on Holtzmann again, the two making their way back to the latter of the two’s room. When the stumble happens it’s small. Just a dip in the knees due to Erin’s weakness, but Holtz—unaccustomed to helping another human walk with assistance—twists around too fast, pulling against Erin’s grip on her hoodie. In the space between heartbeats, her hood and scarf are pulled away, and the charade abruptly shatters.

Neither knew who moved first, but both women shoot away from one another like repelling magnets. Erin’s hand slaps audibly over her mouth, eyes wide and fearful. By comparison, Holtz almost crawls up the adjacent wall behind her, ripping off her goggles and holding her hands up to show she wasn’t a threat, head slightly ducked. Oh, this was bad. This was terribly bad. The only thing that could make it worse was—

“…know I’m late—“

“You’re two hours late,” Mother gripes, sounding brittlely annoyed.

“Damn, can’t a woman sleep a few extra minutes, or hours?” Abby complains. “Not like she’s going anywhere on account of…”

The body count in the room rises by two. Four women stare at one another: two in varying shades of terror, one in surprised shock, and the fourth…well, Gorin’s expression was one that looked carved from marble, but there was a hint of hot anger turning the hazel hue of her eyes dangerously dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We all knew it was coming...now here comes the fallout. 
> 
> Reviews literally help me write faster and let me know how I'm doing. Please and thank you! Also, feel free to come and bother me on my tumblr: http://not-so-secret-nerd.tumblr.com/


	8. Chapter 8

Erin had been relatively fine up until a few seconds ago. She stood earlier on her own and walked more steadily than she had the previous day. It was still almost impossible to stand fully erect, but she was managing. She’d even graduated to using the restroom unassisted— it was only slightly humiliating having to rely on others for hygienic and sanitary needs. Even her reflection in the small, second-hand mirror bolted to the bathroom wall was improving, the swelling of her brutalized face diminishing, though the bruising left behind was ghastly and dark. No doubt it would be weeks more before it all completely faded.

All-in-all, her spirits had been on the rise until they came crashing down like a led balloon when the Undergrounder’s hood fell.

 _Oh my god, it’s real!_ was the first thing her mind screamed as she took in a face far removed from the human visage. The second was, _What is it?!_

Heart thundering in her chest, she recalled shooting away from the creature, back thumping against the wall behind her, waking lances of pain through her ribs. She hardly noticed. Hardly took stock of her aches voicing their complaints as she stared in open horror. It hadn’t been a dream. It was all real. _It was all real_!

Shock hit her like a bolt of lightning. Terrorized understanding the thunderclap. Laboratory. The creature told her there was a laboratory down here, and the thought rocked Erin, making a nest of ice in her lower bowels. These people were creating things under the streets of New York, and this was one of their creations. It was irrational, but it’s all she could conclude in the moment, every cheesy sci-fi movie becoming suddenly plausible right before her eyes.

Stuck in the quagmire of petrifying fear, Erin misses the startled terror on Holtzmann’s face, misses the submission in her stance—hands raised, palms out, head down. She was trying everything in her power save for going to her knees to appear as non-threatening as possible, but that didn’t necessarily work when she had the face of a predator and the teeth to match.

“ _What the fuck are you_?!” Erin tries to shriek but it comes out of a thin, squeaky whisper.

Holtz can’t help but recoil a little more at the exclamation, suddenly wishing she had the ability to sink through the floor. What are you? It implied a thing rather than a person. Thing, object, non-human. A part of her dies under the withering heat of Erin’s misunderstanding and fear.

It was hard to tell whether Gorin and Abby’s sudden appearance was her saving grace or downfall. Likely both, but for the moment her mother’s attention was directed on corralling the situation and not her daughter.

“Do. Not. Scream,” Gorin snarls a warning, sensing the Topsider was gearing up to test the full range of her terror.

Scream, right. Erin had that ability, but Gorin’s cold stare and bright eyes set the distance between them on fire, snuffing out any vocal exclamations under a heavy blanket of implied threat. Well, at least that was the intention of the threat. It didn’t exactly strike home with Erin.

“What the hell are you people doing down here? Creating monsters?!” So much for keeping quiet. Having eyes only for the perceived monster in her midst, Erin doesn’t see the murderous look pass over Gorin’s face that could have possibly bloomed into the actual act if not for Abby.

“ _What did you say_?” Gorin demands, taking a threatening step towards Erin that’s only halted when Abby jumps between them.

“Gorin, she’s scared. She didn’t mean it like that. Let me take her back to her—”

“The hell I didn’t!” Erin shouts, breathing so quickly the room was starting to grow light around the edges. She recoils when Abby snaps around, milky eyes eerily finding hers and locking stares.

“That _monster_ is my goddaughter,” the blind woman snaps, voice like a whip crack. “Be careful with the words you choose. In fact, shutting up would probably be the best thing for you to do right now.”

“Who the fuck are you people?!”

“The ones responsible for saving your life!” Gorin shouts loud enough to make Erin jump before the older woman turns her boring gaze onto Holtz. “And the people greatly regretting that decision.”

 _Mother, please. This isn’t Erin’s fault. Be angry with me, not her,_ Holtz pleads, opening up the channels of her mind so Abby could hear their conversation as well. She didn’t know Erin enough to form a third connection, forcing the woman to gather one-sided conversations.

“You know her name?” There’s accusation in Gorin’s tone.

Holtz flinches, fighting a wince. She can feel Erin’s stare on her skin like static electricity and wrestles to keep from fidgeting. _I saw the missing persons flyer._

Verbal accusation turns into a physical stare Gorin shoots at Abby. As if the woman could see, she shrugs lightly, the only one in the room non-pulsed by the leader of the Underground’s temper. “In my defense, Holtz was going to find out one way or another, and it was easier to converse with Erin by name rather than calling her Topsider.”

Wrestling to keep herself from doing something stupid like chucking a book at her daughter or screaming, Gorin sucks in a breath through her nose, pinching the bridge under her glasses. The situation was deteriorating faster than she could scramble to keep the pieces together.

“You’re right,” she eventually agrees with a clinical nod, gaze drifting to her daughter. “This is your fault. And since you’ve decided your whims take precedence over the rest of ours, you have put us all in an impossible situation. One I will have to deal with directly.”

Not surprisingly, Erin translates this into ‘you’re about to die because you know too much’ and feels a different but all-too-familiar panic well up inside her. It’s what she felt after the first fist connected with her face in the van, after being told her attackers were there to ‘teach her a lesson’, after being stabbed in the ribs and left to die. It’s mortal panic. It consumes her, making running the only logical course of action.

Completely forgetting she’d been bedridden for more than two weeks, Erin makes it past Abby—an act not exactly difficult when the woman was blind—before Gorin spins and snatches her by the back of the oversized sweater she’d been given to wear. A hard twist has her falling unceremoniously in a flail of limbs into a wingback chair, the well-worn cushions blunting the pain of her landing.

“Sit. Down.”

Something in the way Gorin commanded the room and barked orders overrides Erin’s self-preserving urge to flee. Or maybe it was her own pure self-preserving instincts coupled with the shock of being caught and thrown into a chair. Whatever the reason, Erin remains frozen where she’d been deposited.

“Stay,” Gorin rumbles, pointing at the floor.

 _She’s not a dog!_ Holtz shouts, having moved from her place against the wall when Erin made her break for it, ready to jump in should the situation escalate. Regardless of Erin’s fear towards her, she wasn’t about to let the brunette get hurt again on her account. _She’s terrified and confused. Talk to her like a normal person rather than the animal she thinks I am!_

“You are not an animal!” Gorin bites back over her shoulder.

_She doesn’t know that! Explain this to her. Explain us. She needs to know._

“That is the last thing she needs.”

“I’m actually in agreement with Mother on this one,” Abby nods, surprising the two. “The less she knows the better. Sorry, kiddo.”

_Then we’re not going to get anywhere with her, and she’s going to keep trying to run!_

“Then it’s time for her to leave,” Gorin says, scowling thunderously down at Erin. “If she has the ability to run she no longer needs our care.”

_She’s not going to last ten minutes Topside walking through the park, and you know it!_

“Another entrance then. Something closer to city center.”

 _And who’s going to take her there? Me? Abby? You? You think she’s going to go anywhere with us down here willingly when she thinks we’re mad scientists creating monsters in the dark?_ Holtz challenges, stepping closer to her mother and trying to ignore Erin’s flinches. _Talk to her!_

Gorin snarls, raking her hands through her hair. “We wouldn’t have to deal with this mess had you simply listened to me!” Holtz and Gorin stand facing one another now like two cocks preparing to duel. “I told you to stay away. For once, I thought you would listen to me, but you deliberately disobeyed me!”

_Stop using my treks Topside as a way to skirt the issue! You’re treating Erin like a criminal when she hasn’t done a damn thing wrong._

“She’s from the Topside!” Gorin shouts as if that said it all. “And this is my home!” She gestures to the room as if that excused her actions.

_This is my home, too!_

“Wrong,” the older woman raises a finger. “You forfeited your right to your home when you brought her down here against our community’s wishes!”

Here they were again, dragging an old argument off the dusty shelves, only this time the audience was quite a bit bigger and massively uncomfortable.

 _I didn’t realize home came with a price tag, nor did I realize the community spoke with one voice. When did it turn into a monarchy?_ _I did what you raised me to do! To help!_ Holtz persisted despite the dangerous thunder growing on Gorin’s face.

“And now you’ve brought a liability into our home. Into our world all because you couldn’t pick and choose your battles!”

_She was dying!_

“Sometimes there will be unforeseen casualties in life! You can’t save the entire world, Jillian, and you certainly can’t save all of Topside!”

_You didn’t leave me to die when my mother abandoned me as an infant! You raised me to be caring and kind, to be like you. Why does your compassion stop with those from above?_

“Because they are undeserving of compassion! They are the reason we are down here! I raised you Underground because I knew you would never be accepted by people like her!” Gorin jabs a finger at a stunned Erin. “To them, you are something less than human, and I _will not_ stand for my daughter to be viewed as subhuman by the vain, heartless creatures who crawl Topside!”

Spinning on Erin, body coiled like a spring under tremendous pressure, Gorin seethes, “I want you well, and I want you gone. And god help you if you ever darken my doorway again!”

“I never asked to be here!” Erin suddenly explodes, finally reaching her breaking point. It was all too much. The monster, her circumstances, the way she was being blamed for an implosion that had nothing to do with her. It all came to a head and she was surging to her feet and going toe-to-toe with the woman named Gorin, blue eyes lit from behind with a rage that had been festering for days.

“I never asked to be kidnapped while walking home from work! I never asked to be mistaken for a mob hit! I never asked to be beaten near to death in a van, stabbed, and dumped in the snow to die! I never asked to be rescued by people who think whatever I am is a pariah on society. _I never asked for any of this_ , so don’t you dare stand there and accuse me of anything like I had a say in the matter! I was supposed to die that night! I was supposed to bleed to death in the snow, but I…” Erin’s breath hitches, a sick sort of understanding settling over her and leeching away the anger giving her the strength to stand. It felt like she’d been dunked in ice water, her body going numb. “I…was supposed to die that night.”

Watching Erin’s anger flicker and then fracture under the brute force of mortal understanding broke Holtzmann’s heart. When she chokes on a sob and falls back into the chair behind her, Holtz was forced to tear her eyes away to fight the urge to comfort. What use would it be? To Erin, she was a monster, so what’s the point? What’s the point of any of this? Why had she thought it would be different?

 _There’s your heartless creature, Mother. A Topsider coming to grips with her own mortality,_ she spits. _I hope this pleases you. I hope you're happy now_.   

Without warning, Holtz’s anger and shame get the best of her and she slaps the table next to her hard enough to shake the books resting there and storms from the room. A second later, the front door slams shut with a resounding bang like the period at the end of a sentence.

Gorin stands in silence for a handful of seconds before coming back to herself with a shuddering breath. She tries to hide the shake of her hands and the twitch in her shoulders but doesn’t quite manage. Before long, they would reach her spine. She needed to lie down.

“I can’t do this right now. See to it she’s taken care of.” It’s the only explanation she gives before retreating into her personal chambers, leaving Abby alone with a quietly crying Topsider.

 “Oh my god, that was completely unnecessary,” Abby says around a heavy exhale, unease making her stomach sour. She pushes her glasses up into her hair so she can scrub at her face with her hands. “I—um…feel I need to apologize for my family. What happened to you wasn’t your fault. None of this has been your fault. You were just trying to survive and were thrown into a world where you became the scapegoat for a lot of things that don’t have to do with you. That’s on us, and I’m sorry.”

Not foreseeing Erin stopping anytime soon, Abby crosses the cluttered room and finds a stack of dishtowels beside a low sink. Returning to the chair Erin occupied, she hands a few over, standing awkwardly at a respectable distance until the woman quieted.

“I just want to go home,” Erin hiccups, curling into herself.

“And you will. Once you’re well enough to make the journey.” Abby shuffles again, unsure she should carry on the thread of conversation. “Look, Gorin was out of line. I’ll be the first to admit that, but she gets extremely defensive when people attack her daughter or our way of life. And unfortunately, you threaten a lot just by being what you are. It’s not an excuse for her behavior, just an explanation. I know…I know all of this is hard to grasp. I know you’re scared. But please try to understand we’re trying.”

Erin sniffs hard, overwhelmed. She doesn’t nod along to anything Abby says because none of it made sense. The world had turned upside down without her realizing it, and she was struggling to find her bearings.

“I think you should probably lie down.” It was more of a command than a suggestion but one she can agree with. Helped to her feet, Erin follows wordlessly, leaning on Abby until they make it to the bed again. Fighting the urge to curl onto her side—neither her ribs nor the stitches would allow for that—Erin stares at the ceiling while Abby takes her leave.

“You said she was your goddaughter.”

The blind woman pauses and turns slightly. “I did.”

“Is she human?”

Now Abby turns around fully, shoulder resting against the wall. “Yes, she is. And believe it or not, she has feelings too. I imagine being called a monster didn’t feel very good.”

Erin only blanches a little, swallowing hard. In another life, she knew better than to jump and scream at someone with an obvious physical disability. She was a DA, for Christ’s sake. She’d won discrimination cases centered around that exact thing. But then again, she’d never seen anyone who looked quite so beastly as the…as the woman she’d seen tonight.

“She’s also the person who found you and carried you down here, in case you didn’t gather that from the shouting match you just witnessed. And before you ask,” Abby adds, actually taking her leave now. “Holtzmann has Aphasia. Head trauma she suffered as a child. She can’t verbally speak well, in case you were wondering about the stretch of her intelligence.”

“She can speak,” Erin says to herself, thinking back to the nights Holtzmann had read to her until she fell asleep and putting the pieces together. “With her mind.”

“Funny how the brain adapts to trauma. Good night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well....that happened *wince* Oh the angst. 
> 
> Reviews literally help me write faster and let me know how I'm doing. Please and thank you!


	9. Chapter 9

For a solid week after the spectacularly catastrophic collision between Topside and Underground, Erin saw little of the people whose care she’d been unceremoniously deposited into. Gorin refused to see her, but that’s wasn’t anything different. The matriarch hadn’t directly had a hand in Erin’s rehabilitation, if any at all. Abby was the only one who kept a consistent schedule—coming to help shuttle the brunette back and forth between her bed and the bathroom and dropping off food. Holtzmann, however, had well and truly vanished.

Erin didn’t ask after her. At first, it was general fear keeping her from inquiring about the Undergrounder, as if speaking her name might summon her. It was irrational, Erin knew, but sometimes the mind was slower to process logic and reason. When those two learned instincts finally kicked in and Erin realizes she was, in fact, being a massive ass about this entire situation, she couldn’t bring herself to ask out of shame. Abby didn’t pry, simply keeping their conversations light and her visits short, but the hole Holtzmann’s absence left began to grow steadily more profound in the silence Erin found herself in most night and a majority of her days.

It was strange how a lack of the woman’s presence left something missing in Erin she couldn’t exactly understand. Was it the lack of a connection with another living being or the lack of attention? Holtz had basically been at Erin’s side from the beginning, distracting her from the pain of her healing by any means within her limited power. As reluctant as she was to admit, Erin had begun looking forward to their nightly meetings, but now? Now the silence pressed in around her like a suffocating blanket, highlighting all the points where Erin had gone inexcusably wrong.

Finally, after suffering so many days of stewing, Erin’s reservation broke. Like it or not, she had to be the bigger person. It was the least she could do to start making amends with someone she owed her life to, startling appearance or not.

Sliding out of bed wasn’t a problem anymore. Standing took less concentration. Walking was still a challenge, but her back and forth treks with Abby had done wonders for reestablishing her balance. Somewhere, though, in the uneasy part of her brain, Erin suspected she probably shouldn’t wander around looking for someone who probably wanting nothing to do with her. If Gorin was anything to go off, the people of the Underground were intolerant of her kind. If she ran into one of them alone…

But there were no guards waiting outside Holtzmann’s room. No Abby. No Gorin. No disgruntled Undergrounder. No Holtzmann. Just a simple quiet interrupted every now and then by messages tapped out on the pipes running like veins above her head.

The place this subterranean community called home was strange. The rooms around Erin either looked purposely cut from solid bedrock or built around modified antechambers used in old-school tunnel construction.

The main room—largest of the areas Erin had seen so far—was cluttered with bits of scavenged furniture, antique rugs, overstuffed bookshelves, loose papers, and trinkets of every size. It was cozy in a sort of chaotic, pack-rat kind of way, illuminated by bare light bulbs overhead ensconced in intricate glass shades of varying color. In the air, Erin could detect the faintest hint of stubbornly lingering pipe smoke, lending to the wizard-workshop atmosphere.

Stopping at an overloaded bookshelf, Erin ran her hands over the spines, noting their varied genres. Most were medical dictionaries. Other were dated textbooks ranging from history to science to English. A few books, however, caught Erin’s attention, making her tilt her head in curious ponderance. These tomes, though dated, had been part of her study through most of law school. It was odd finding those dizzying relics down here. Then again, nothing about these people made sense.

From the main room, Erin had two options for travel. Left was the front door, or its equivalent: a heavy, ship-hatch looking thing. Right opened into a tunnel that possibly leads deeper into the dwelling. Erin couldn’t very well head out the front door. She wouldn’t be able to move it on her own without making a hellacious amount of noise, so right it was. If Holtz wasn’t in the dwelling she would just have to rethink her plan of action.

Directly off the main room, Erin’s stumbled across Gorin’s personal quarters. The décor was less chaotic and more organized, almost atmospherically sterile. Only a few touches of human warmth peppered the space in the forms of framed pictures and small trinkets undoubtedly made by the matriarch’s daughter over the years. Gorin wasn’t present—thank god for small miracles—so Erin hurried past lest the woman return.

Tunnels crossed and bisected each other all around her, making Erin’s trek properly labyrinthine, made all the worse by low lighting and hissing pipes. Not for the first time, she began to suspect this wasn’t her best idea. She could have just waited for Abby to come back and asked to speak to Holtz. Yes, that was a much better plan, but she was already here and would make the most out of her chance exploration. Though no doubt Erin would have gotten herself well and truly lost had the sound of distant music not caught her attention. Curiosity won the race against caution and pulls Erin down a semi-dark tunnel two lefts and a right from Gorin’s room.

Another hatch waits at the end, partially open, allowing light from the room beyond to spread into the tunnel. By now, she was close enough to recognize the song and feels her lips quirk in a small smile. Bruce Springsting’s “Dancing in the Dark”. One of her all-time favorite jams Erin played while shamelessly “dancing” around her apartment doing odd chores or cooking dinner. Erin took precaution when stepping closer and peering in, still aware of the danger she might be in, but in a rush, time seemed to stop, and her quest came to an end.

Half-hidden by the door, Erin watches in mesmerized silence. Holtz had such a carefree, playful quality to her the brunette hadn’t previously seen. In the swagger of her hips. In the shuffle of her feet as she thrust along to the music. In the careless way she picked up various tools to use as impromptu microphones or did little kicks as she sang along with the iconic tune, blonde hair bouncing. She danced with careless abandon around a truly gargantuan machine rooted in the center of the room, tightening nuts and giving specific pipes a solid whack for good measure, all in rhythm with the song.

Rare were the moments Erin witnessed such unabashed joy that she found herself leaning against the door to watch with quiet appreciation. And had the treacherous hinges not given out under her weight and squealed sharply, Erin might have had enough time to work up the courage to properly knock rather than being caught staring like a voyeur.

That wasn’t the case, however.

Despite the volume of the music, Holtz lifted her head at the sound—clearly expecting someone else—a wide smile on her face that immediately fractures and falls when she realizes who it was in the doorway.

Spinning around out of reflex, Holtz gropes blindly for the off button to the boombox next to her. In the vacuum left behind by the music absence, she tries to calm the sudden slam of her heart that seemed to have lodged in her throat. Her mind, once clear, fogs with unwanted activity. Erin shouldn’t be here. She shouldn’t be wandering around. She shouldn't be standing at the entrance to Holtzmann’s lab.

Even after a week, Holtz still felt the sting of the brunette’s words. It wasn’t like she hadn’t heard or experienced a reaction like that before. Even growing up under Mother’s care, people still talked and couldn’t always hide their startlement. It had just been long enough the pain of those encounters had been forgotten and buried.

Little did Holtz know Erin had spun away too, turning in profile against the door and struggling to wrestle the surge of panic pooling like liquid nitrogen in her stomach. She’d wanted this, but the fear was still there. _Get a grip._ _She’s a person too. Stand up and look at her._ Easier said than done.

Raising a hand, Holtz waves over her shoulder almost in warning. It was Erin’s only indication she was about to turn around. The blonde prays to whatever resided in the sky Erin didn’t start screaming again. Thankfully, her plea was heard, though Holtz only glanced up long enough to check if Erin was still standing in the doorway before ducking her head again, blonde curls obscuring her face.

 _“Did you need something?”_ she signs with trembling hands. When an answer doesn’t come after a long beat of silence, she chances a peek again and finds the brunette actually looking at her. The unexpected severity of Erin’s gaze wakes waves of goosebumps across her body.

 _“Are you all right?”_ Silence again, and then it hits. _Goddamn it, Holtzmann, what the hell is wrong with you?_ Erin didn’t know the first thing about sign language, and Holtz almost smacks her forehead out of embarrassed frustration.

Erin watches the woman scramble to communicate, unsure if she should make the next move—Should she say something? Could she say something? Why was her throat suddenly so dry?—until Holtzmann squeezes her eyes tightly shut, a flash of pain flickering across her features, as she tries another method.

“I…” The word croaks from the engineer’s throat like a strangled exhale. She bears her teeth—something that makes Erin immediately nervous—body tense as a bow string as she wrestles her words and disused vocal chords into place. “’m…s-sor-ry. N-eed he..lp?”

Erin’s chest cramps, shame flushing her ears red. Secretly, she wished the ground would open up and swallow her. Aphasia. That’s what Abby told her: mutism caused by head trauma when Holtz was a child. And Erin had just forced her—a disabled person—beyond her disability. Guilt kicked her in the ribs with a steel-toed boot.

“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…umm…that is I, uh, I’m disturbing you. I’m sorry.” She turned to leave in an embarrassed rush—moving as fast as her aching ribs and side would allow—but was pulled to a stop by a concerned grunt that sounded like a plea to stay. When she half-turns, Holtzmann waits with a whiteboard in hand. Holding up a finger capped with a filed down black nail and making a staying gesture, the blonde quickly scrawls something on the board and turns it around.

**No apologizing. Are you all right? Need me to call Abby?**

“No,” Erin shakes her head, offering a small smile as her fingers worry at the frayed collar of her oversized sweater. She gestures to the air around her as if that told the other woman something useful. “I heard your music. I like this song. Springsting is a favorite of mine.”

Holtz’s face breaks into a smile almost on reflex. Erin tries not to flinch at the glint of white fangs in the light of the lab but wasn’t sure she managed it very well. If Holtzmann saw, she paid it little mind, returning to her whiteboard, marker squeaking.

 **One of my favorites, too.** She gestures to an empty armchair nearby, her face conveying the invitation. Uneasy around the woman though she may be, Holtzmann still had manners and basic decency.

“Oh no, I don’t want to disturb you.”

Holtz makes a face and writes on her board, **Not disturbing. Should sit. Ribs aren’t heeled yet** _._

Erin squints at the whiteboard, opening and closing her mouth. “I think you spelled healed wrong.”

The blonde blinks and looks down. This time, she does slap her forehead and groans. **Sorry** _,_ she writes. **Spelling not best subject** _._

Still lingering in the doorway, Erin fidgets, fingers moving from her collar to the edges of her shirt. She’d come looking for the blonde with an apology in mind. Now that she was here, she couldn’t get the words to puzzle themselves out.

Holtz grunts again to get her attention, motioning at her face before starting to write. **I know I’m strange. Sorry I scared you**.

“I…” Erin takes a breath and lets it out slowly. Well, she couldn’t very well do this from the doorway now could she? Hands clasped in front of her, she steps in. “I wanted to apologize for that. It was wrong of me to react that way. I should have known better—I _do_ know better, and it was wrong of me to call you names and assume and…I’m sorry.”

When she lifts her gaze, Erin is surprised to see Holtzmann staring at her slightly slack-jawed. After a beat, the blonde shakes herself.

**Don’t feel sorry. Didn’t mean those things.**

“In the moment, I did,” Erin confesses, ears burning.

 **Apology accepted even if not needed. Last thing—** Holtz has to stop and clear the board with her arm ** _—_ I want is to make you uncomfortable.**

“Thank you,” Erin bobs her head. “You also don’t need to use the whiteboard. I—I know you can speak in…other ways.”

**But it scares you.**

“It’s just…odd having someone talking in stereo inside your head,” Erin tries to explain, though she’s more than certain the blonde already knew this. She also couldn’t help feel her own ableism coming to play. Holtzmann couldn’t help what lines of communication were available to her.

The other woman suddenly laughs, and it’s such a strange sound it makes Erin’s stomach flip and chest flutter. Open and pure and clear. It was the laugh of a person accustomed to knowing joy. The marker squeaks on the whiteboard again. **Sure you want me to stop?**

“Yes.” Erin nods. It's more to convince herself than Holtz.  

 _Still sure?_ Holtzmann gently asks, tilting her head and watching the brunette closely. Erin only flinches a little when the brush of another consciousness meets hers.

“I’ll get used to it.” Her smile is tight but genuine. Strange though this woman may be, Erin felt a level of calm when around her. Almost like she’d been dialed to a peaceful setting she didn’t previously know she possessed. “I mean, I’ve kind of already gotten used to it. I just…didn’t know it was you.”

 _A mutant only has their anonymity,_ Holtz winks.

“Was that an X-Men reference?”

 _The fact you caught that makes you a hundred times cooler, but you really should sit down._ _It’s not good to be up and moving so soon._

“I was getting restless.”

 _Restlessness is good,_ she nods sage-like. _Let’s you know you’re alive._

Feeling the stretch of her healing injuries the longer she remained standing, Erin took the woman’s suggestion and moved towards the open armchair. Out of the corner of her eye, she catches the blonde move half a step forward, worry evident in her expression, but stops herself before getting too close.

"You really weren't joking when you said you had a lab down here," Erin hedges, changing the topic. “What are you working on?”

 _Yep! My own personal sanctuary,_   Holtz grins, picking up a tool Erin didn't know the name for. _And I'm working on a water pressure system. Down here, we have to piggyback off of the Topside electrical grid. I’d like to create something that will make us completely self-sufficient._

Erin feels her eyebrows lift as she eases into the shockingly comfortable cushions. “That’s actually impressively incredible. Did you come up with the idea on your own?”

 _Affirmative,_ Holtz smiles, tapping a fat pipe with a wrench. _Though I can’t take all the credit for the design. This baby is just a modification of pressure systems found Topside. I just changed the trajectory of the water intake._

“Don’t let me distract you from working.”

_Nah, the distraction is welcome. I’ve been trying to figure out this internal valve component for three days._

Holtz goes on to enthusiastically explain her machine, walking Erin through the parts she thought the brunette would understand. Admittedly, Erin wasn’t one for mechanics or engineering. Math, she could handle. Her minor had been in physics, after all, so she caught on here and there. But as a whole, a lot of what Holtzmann said went over her head, so she simply sat back and watched the Undergrounder’s enthusiasm build, spurred on by a new face to talk to.

She didn’t mean to doze off. One second she was listening to the blonde describe a series of hydraulics and their purpose in her machine and the next Erin was dragged into semi-darkness, catching snippets of what was being said. Eventually, even those eventually fade and the world closes. The next thing she knew, she was snapping awake with a startled gasp sometime later, the fingers of a nightmare still wrapped tightly around her throat.

Holtzmann—who had watched Erin drop off and simply let her nap in peace—stopped what she was doing when she noticed the brunette’s hard jerk into consciousness. But it was the bright fear in Erin’s blue eyes that brought the engineer around her workbench, shedding her gloves and goggles as she went.

_Erin? Are you okay?_

Static fills every muscle fibers with the urge to move. Erin’s up and out of her seat before her mind registers the movement, slow to remember where she was and even slower to wrangle the adrenaline turning her heart into a V8 piston. She can’t shake the feeling of hands tangling in her hair or the blunt, shattering force of a fist connecting with her face. Her side hurts, a byproduct of the knife that had once been there.

 _Erin. Erin, hey, look at me,_ Holtz calls, careful not to move too quickly towards the startled woman, waving to get her attention. _You’re safe. You’re in my lab. You fell asleep. It was just a dream._

It takes the taller woman more than a handful of deep breaths to regain some semblance of calm, and when she does her posture droops enough Holtz fears she’s about to pass out and lunges forward. Her dive was unnecessary, however, leading to an awkward shuffle that eventually ends with Erin sitting back down on the edge of the armchair and Holtz spinning away on her heels, giving her space.

Hunching forward, she rests her forehead on the heels of her palms, willing herself not to give into the burn of tears linger at the edge of her vision or the roll of her stomach.

“I think…” Erin swallows down bile scorching the back of her throat and tries again. “I think I need to lie down.”

 _That’s a good plan, yep,_ Holtz nods hurriedly, rubbing the back of her head. _Great plan._   _Come on, let’s get you back._

“I can make it on my own. Thank you.”

It wasn’t a curt dismissal. It wasn’t even a dismissal. The way Erin voiced it sounded more like she was attempting to convince herself than ward off aid, but Holtz still feels her chest tighten.

 _The tunnels are easy to get lost in,_ is her not-so-subtle attempt at offering help without sounding patronizing, and surprisingly it works.  

Still lost in the hazy aftermath of her waking nightmare, Erin allows Holtz to guide her through the tunnels but stubbornly refuses any other forms of aid, even when she begins to fatigue halfway back. Her trek earlier sucked the energy from her like a balloon with a slow helium leak, but she would make the journey on her own merits and dwindling strength come hell or high water. Too many weeks of being bedridden, feeling weak and fragile, were starting to chafe at her. Holtz, for her part, could only walk along in uneasy silence, not exactly sure what she could or should say.  

“I never got to properly thank you…” Erin says after returning to her sleeping quarters, barely able to ease herself onto the mattress. From the mound of pillows that had been her home for several weeks, she watches Holtzmann fetch a few things from around the room. “For saving my life that night.”

 _You don’t have to thank me,_ Holtz rebuts handing Erin a glass of water and a cool compress to mop the sweat from her face.

“I do. Had you not come along…I’d be dead.” Saying it out loud again puts a knot in her throat she can’t seem to swallow. Erin would never forget that night. The memory was seared into her brain for life, catching her sometimes in the quiet moments when she thinks she might have escaped the terror.

 _I’m sorry for what happened to you. No one should have to ever go through that._ Erin can’t bring herself to answer. Mouth pressed in a thin line, she nods a few times while Holtz fidgets, searching for the right words. _Down here, they can’t get you, you know. Down here, you’re safe._

“But I can’t stay here forever.” Erin says it to the blankets draped over her knees, hands wrapped around the cool cup.

It’s Holtz’s turn to nod with an unhappy crease running across her brow. She fights to keep her face neutral and devoid of disappointment. _You walked pretty far on your own today. Another few days and you’ll be Topside again. But for now, rest._

“Would it be any trouble if…I asked you to read to me? I’d like to know how Harry gets into the Chamber of Secrets.” Erin can’t help feel a strip of pink warm the bridge of her nose. Beside her, Holtzmann cracks a grin, the book already waiting for her under her chair.

_No trouble at all._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awww look at these two. Being civil and cute towards one another. Definitely heading towards the "there may be something there that wasn't there before" moment ;)
> 
> Reviews literally help me write faster and let me know what you all think. Please and thank you!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before we begin, I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who has read and commented on this story. You guys don't know how much that means to me and to writers in general. Talking with people about our work, hearing your flailed exclamations or theories or even a general "well done!" makes our day. So thank you to everyone for enjoying this weird romp with me through dual fandoms. You all are the best =)

Four days later, Erin—dressed in borrowed clothes and shoes—finds herself following Holtz through another maze of semi-dark tunnels, their pace slow to make certain Erin didn’t fatigue as quickly as she had during her previous adventure.

It had been decided after Gorin learned of Ern’s trek into Holtzmann’s lab that the Topsider was indeed well enough to return to her world aboveground. Erin agreed, though her terms for removal had raised the matron’s eyebrow.

“I would like Holtzmann to escort me,” Erin said, surprising both Gorin and Abby.

“My daughter has risked enough for you,” was Gorin’s rumbled reply, and it seemed the matter was settled until a few hushed words from Abby softened the older woman into relenting some. “Fine. Jillian will escort you, but only to the upper tunnels. If you provide us with the location of your home, I’m sure we can deposit you close enough.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Erin said, shaking her head. “The West entrance of Central Park will suffice. I can make it the rest of the way on foot.”

“So be it,” the older woman nodded before stepping closer to Erin, purposely invading her personal space. “But I have a condition of my own that will be agreed upon before we proceed further. I’m sure there will be hard questions asked of you once you return. A woman of your status returning from the dead will pique quite a bit of interest, but I trust you will remain mute about our existence.”

“And if I can’t?” Erin challenged, rising to meet the woman.

“It’s not a matter of can, my dear. It’s a matter of will. You will remain silent about our existence.”

“Is that a threat?”

One side of Gorin’s lip quirked in a shallow smile. “Threats are a cowards way of control. I’m telling you what will happen.”

Erin was good at calling people’s bluffs. She’d made a living out of it, so it was more than a little chilling when she realized there was no bluff being made. Gorin was serious, and her implied threat didn’t go unnoticed.

“I will find a way to keep you and your family out of any investigation that might ensue. That’s the best I can do.”

 Appearing satisfied her point had been made, Gorin let the matter drop, though Holtzmann wasn’t pleased to learn later that same day Erin would have to hike back to her apartment alone.

 _But I could take you so much closer!_ Holtz complained, swinging down from a set of pipes she’d been fixing in her machine. Erin sat in her chair, watching the engineer attempt to clear cooking oil from her arms. She claimed it helped her reach tight spaces. Erin’s wasn’t so sure. _The tunnels literally run under most of the buildings in this city. I know the streets and their adjacent tunnels by heart!_

“And I appreciate that,” Erin had smiled wanly, unwilling to reveal to the Undergrounder and subsequently her mother where she lived. She’d had enough surprises to last her a lifetime. And if Erin was going to sever ties, she was going to do it the right way, even if it felt like she was spitting in Holtzmann’s face. “But there are things I need to do before I head home. According to your mother, I’ve been gone for more than a month. No doubt, people have been looking for me. I need to go through the right channels to let them know I’m okay.”

_But what about the people who hurt you? What if they’re looking for you, too?_

Erin couldn’t tell where the spark of warmth blooming in her chest had come from—the simple fact someone cared enough to worry about her or the fact that someone was Holtzmann—but she shifted uncomfortably, not sure what to do with the emotions welling up inside her.

“They won’t be looking for me. Your mother was right. The men who attacked me had the wrong woman. More than likely, they won’t show their faces again because, to them, I’m supposed to be dead. They probably aren’t even in the city anymore, knowing how thugs like that work.”

Erin danced smoothly around the blatant lie, thankful for all the tricks she’d picked up in law school about how to keep a straight, convincing face. The men who attacked her had anticipated her to die in the snow, yes. It was why they’d dumped her in such a remote area of the park, but now that Erin was back, that posed a problem. A real problem. Victims of assassinations weren’t supposed to walk away whole and healthy with clear depictions of their assailants. That made the DA a very solid target, especially when a mob family was involved.

But that was Erin’s battle to fight. She was a DA. She knew how these things played out and had that knowledge in her favor.

So it was, four days later the brunette took her leave of the Underground after a brief good-bye with Abby and a nod to Gorin. Holtzmann let Erin borrow a few items of clothing before they set off, most of it fitting well save for the jeans, which were short in the legs and rode up her ankles.

The two walked along in relative silence. Every so many yards, Holtz would glance back to see if Erin was still following or extend a hand to help her over a gap or fissure, but the blonde was quiet. Somber, almost, like she was stuck inside her head. Erin didn’t pry, instead, paying close attention to the world around her.

The Underground was otherworldly. Erin never imagined something like it could exist under her feet, thriving with a community few were privy to see. It was like winding her way through a man-made cave system.

Crumbling pillars of cemented rebar made up the stalagmites. Pipes of varying size made up the stalactites, running above her head like the veins of an ancient beast. There were moments where corridors dropped into deep pits bridged with strips of steel and rope with glittering black pools at their bottoms. There were channels of fast-moving water and waterfalls made by old, rusted-through pipes. And there were endless false doors and secret entrances and mazes that a person could easily lose themselves in for weeks. Truly, this was a kingdom built to last and one that took Erin’s breath away.

 _When you get back to the surface, what will you do?_ Holtz asked, breaking the silence and making Erin glance up.

“Well, speaking with the police would probably be my best course of action. After that, contact my father,” she sighed, not entirely looking forward to the conversation. Grateful though she was for the man’s financial help through school, Erin wasn’t especially close with her father. Her mother died years ago, leaving the two of them to fend awkwardly for themselves.

_Is he a DA like you?_

“No, he’s a judge.”

Holtz nodded, sensing this train of conversation was causing a strain. _First thing you’ll eat?_

That made Erin laugh a little, thankful for the topic change. “Ice cream. You and your mother cook fine, but I’ve missed Ben & Jerry’s triple chocolate brownie ice cream. Maybe after that some Thai food. And a _shower._ ”

One of the modern amenities Erin missed the most while recuperating in the Underground was a proper shower with water pressure and her soaps. Also, the ability to sleep in her own bed almost brought her to elated tears.     

 _You don’t smell so bad from a distance,_ Holtz teased over her shoulder.

“Says the woman covered in oil and grease half the time.”

It was strange how naturally their conversations flowed. Erin was never naturally quick to jest with someone she’d virtually just met, but there was something about Holtzmann’s easy-going, goofy attitude that put her at ease. She could laugh more openly and found herself smiling more often like their first tumultuous meeting never happened.

 Another five minutes and a handful of passages later, Holtz touched a hidden switch with her food and opened the last door separating the upper tunnels from the lower ones. Of course she’d promised her mother this was where she’d let Erin off, and of course, she wasn’t about to listen.

Walking through the final tunnel ending in a sturdy wrought iron grate, Erin’s met with her first real burst of natural light in over a month. Opening it with a shove, Holtz ushers the woman through to freedom. Erin winces at the pain of retinal adjustment when she steps out from under the lips of the tall, circular entrance but weathers it gladly, turning her face towards the sun and letting it warm her skin. The breeze was cold today, whipping through the trees of Central Park and moving her hair off her shoulders. With it drifts the distinct sounds of her beloved city, washing over her like a balm.

“God, I’ve missed this,” she mumbles, taking in as deep a breath as she can. Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, she was going home. Excitement and relief flood her, making her warm despite the cold. Erin’s grinning when she turns back to Holtz. The other woman holds a similar smile, but it lacks the wild abandon of the brunette’s. In fact, it looked rather sad, which makes Erin’s happiness falter a bit.

“You can come out here too, you know,” she says, extending a hand into the shadows.

Holtz shakes her head, remaining rooted where she stood under the concave cement ceiling. _Not the best place for me during the day. We Undergrounders tend to burst into flames when we go into direct sunlight._

“Well, you are rather pale,” Erin muses, teasingly. Then she squints, looking suddenly suspicious. “I knew it. You’re all secretly a clan of subterranean vampires.”

The grin that splits the Undergrounder’s face can only be described as purely predatory, but Erin finds little fear in the glint of Holtz’s fangs. The blonde takes a step closer while still remaining in the shadows. _Ah, I see you’ve discovered our actual identities. That’s problematic. I’m afraid I can’t let you leave now._

“Good thing I’m out here in the sunlight, but take your best shot, fangy.”

Holtz bursts into laughter, the sadness temporarily banished from her face. Erin laughs too and steps back into the mouth of the tunnel so she could better see the woman who had, inexplicably, become something of a friend. They share a few more giggles before sobering, the inevitable finally here.

“I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done for me,” Erin says shyly after a beat of silence. She surprises Holtz by pulling her into a tight hug that leaves the smaller woman momentarily rigid.

A swirl of panic wells inside her. Should she hug back? Should he stay still? What was the protocol here!? Holtz fights with herself for half a heartbeat before hesitantly reciprocating, wrapping her arms gingerly around Erin’s waist. And just like that, something shifts into place in her chest like a key finding the right lock.

 _You’re welcome,_ she says, trying to keep the hug friendly.

“I owe you and your family my life.”

_You don’t owe us anything, Erin._

“I do,” she insists, still holding tight. “I’d be dead without you, and someday, I’ll repay the kindness.”

_Just get home safely. That’s all the payment we need._

Drawing back, Erin nods, lips pressed together into a wan smile as she gently squeezes Holtz’s fingers. “I will.”

Turning away, the brunette feels her hand slip from blonde’s and feels a surge of panic. It was stupid, she knew, and likely the result of a long, isolated recuperation. Holtz had been steadily by her side for over a month. Even if they started out rocky, Erin had found a kind and caring soul in the Undergrounder. Even, perhaps, a friend. Felling her slip away, feeling that disconnection from a safe space, made Erin’s stomach bottom out. It was like severing a lifeline. In the Underground, she was safe. Now she was walking away, and that scared her because beyond this point lay the unknown. Reintegration. Talking with police. Facing her father, her family, her life. Answering hard questions. Reliving her attack. Possibly facing her assailants…it made her dizzy and sick. For so long, she’d been on the opposite end of the spectrum, listening to the accounts of assault victims. Now she was one of them, and the understanding of what came next put her heart in her throat.

 _Erin?_ Pausing at the lip of the pipe, Erin turns, trying hard to hide the tremble in her hands. Holtzmann watches her closely, almost like she could feel the woman’s growing apprehension. _You’ve got this. Everything will be okay. Just breathe._

“I’ve got this,” Erin repeats with a slow nod. “I’ve got this.”

_You do._

Before logic or common sense could catch up, Erin spins and hurries back to Holtz. The Undergrounder expected a final goodbye hug—arms already stretching out—but freezes when Erin places a kiss to her cheek, closest to her left ear, and her brain turns to static.

“Thank you,” Erin breathes into the space between them before hurrying out of the pipe. She waves from the light, striking out towards the direction of her apartment. Holtz can barely raise a hand in farewell, fingers brushing the echo of warm lips on her cheek.

It was quite a long time before Holtz turned away from the tunnel entrance and returned to her world, unable to shake the feeling a part of herself had left the Underground and would likely never return. 

* * *

 

Say one thing for New York city, it was huge and easy for one person to get lost in. Shockingly and chillingly easy. Especially when that person wore threadbare clothing and kept her gaze locked on the cement under her sneakered feet. Curious eyes slipped over her, and the DA was grateful for the anonymity her disheveled appearance provided. Before long, she would have the city’s full attention settle on her shoulders, so she took the opportunity to ground herself for what was to come.  

Before leaving the Underground, Erin told Holtzmann her first course of action when returning Topside was to contact the police and start the process of reintegration. And while that had been at the top of her list, Erin’s feet clearly had a different course in mind. One the lead her back to her apartment. Unsurprisingly, the brunette craved familiarity and was loath to throw herself into the fray of legal bureaucracy when she still felt achingly raw from her ordeal. She would go to the police, that was a given, but she would first sit in a hot shower until the water turned cold and then climb into clothes that smelled like her detergent—though, if she was being honest, Holtzmann’s smell wasn’t all that unpleasant.

Spotting the familiar brownstone rising out of the glass and steel city, Erin felt her heart skip a beat and picked up her pace. Home. She was finally home. A month ago, lying in the snow, she didn’t think she’d ever see it again and the sudden burst of emotions had her sprinting for the building, healing body be damned.

And while most people on the street paid her no mind, a set of eyes watching from a nondescript car adjacent to the building tracked her as she made her way across the street before the person in the vehicle popped open the door and moved to intercept.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the plot thickens! 
> 
> As always, reviews make me write faster and let me know how I'm doing. Please and thank you =)


	11. Chapter 11

“Six weeks. Six goddamn weeks. Children all over the country go missing every few seconds, but the whole world _has_ to stops for some white girl who’s gone and run off,” Patty grumbles to herself for what was probably the hundredth time that hour. She tries to shift in her car seat, looking for that sweet spot that kept her ass from going numb but was unsuccessful, making her scowl deepen. Whoever said stakeouts were fun could swallow a cactus.

It was cold. Damn cold. Too damn cold to be cooped up in an old blue Chevy without the engine running and the heat on. Ensconced in a thick, thermal coat, gloves, and a beanie, Patty fought to keep the chill at bay. A losing battle when it came to winters in New York. 

“Why the fuck am I doing this again? Oh, that’s right. The money’s good. Damn good, actually,” she muses, sipping from her coffee thermos and wincing at the lukewarm contents. “So good it’s ‘get out of debt and buy a new car’ good. Perks of being a fucking PI in this city. Rich people wanna find their lost kids they gonna pay, and goddamn do they pay.”

Reaching over, Patty snags a handful of goldfish from her cup holder and pops them into her mouth, chewing slowly while keeping her eyes trained on the building she’d been stationed outside of four times a week for the past six weeks.

“Rich girl isn’t coming back,” she mumbles between bites, picking up the conversation she was having with herself. It was a great way to pass the time even if it made her looks a little loose in the head. “Rich girl probably got wacked cause she stuck her nose in someone else’s business. Ain’t no problem of mine, though. Just gotta do my thing and get paid.”

She munches a few more crackers and takes a swig of coffee. Beside her sits a half-eaten sub and a pack of oatmeal cream pies. Bypassing the sandwich, Patty snags a pie and tears into it.

“And thank fucking Jesus for 24 hours gyms, because my ass is gonna need it after this stakeout. Patty, baby, you could be hitting the mean streets right about now if not for your hip and the damn bullet fragments still embedded in the bone.”

Finished with her less than nutritious meal, Patty reaches for her coffee again when movement catches her eye. It wasn’t anything unusual. This was New York. There were people walking everywhere, but this person had the look of a rabbit flushed from under a bush. People didn’t look like that without a reason, and people didn’t run out in front of oncoming traffic without a passing glance—getting shouts and honks from startled motorists in the process. Patty straightens in her seat a little, brow creasing.

“What’s your problem, little miss?” she mutters, brown eyes tracking the figure as it made a mad dash for the apartment building across from her. Feeling a familiar twinge between her shoulder blades and knowing what it could mean, Patty digs out her binoculars and peers through them. Stops. Lowers them. Looks again more hastily, heart hammering behind her sternum.

“Holy fucking shit!”

There was little doubt. She’d been looking between the missing person’s flyer and the picture pinned to her visor for six weeks. That was Erin Gilbert.

A thousand and one questions flooded the PI’s mind. Namely, where the hell had this woman been and why the hell she was showing up now? Patty put her thoughts on hold as she popped open her car door—met with a chilling blast of New York winter—and carefully made her way towards the woman. Had she not gotten a good profile view, it would have been difficult to recognize her mark. Erin’s clothes were the well-worn kind of second hand and a bit too small for her figure.

“Erin? Erin Gilbert?” Patty called gently, keeping an eye on her surroundings. Missing persons didn’t just show up out of the blue at their apartments. Not in this city, and not without a reason. Without being able to tell if this surfacing was nefarious or not, Patty kept her hand on her gun—despite a PI not legally required to carry one, Patty never left home without it— while the other dug out her license.

Erin froze, visibly stiffening before whirling around. One hand out to stave off whoever was behind her and the other clutching the front of her ratty hoodie, the brunette skipped back a step, coiled and ready to run. Patty saw this, saw the fear flash in the whites of her eyes, and held up her hands, license out.

“Hey, hey, easy. You’re okay. My name is Patricia Tolan. I’m a private investigator hired six weeks ago by your father, Christopher Gilbert, to find you.”

Erin didn’t look remotely convinced of Patty’s identity, which the taller woman could understand. The poor thing looked absolutely traumatized, and it didn’t take a genius to see why. Most of the bruising on Erin’s face had faded or showed as faint yellow patches, but Patty couldn’t help notice how the woman’s hand drifted to her left side almost like she was covering something sensitive. Erin’s eyes shifted quickly left and right, the tip of her tongue darting out to wet her chapped lips.

 “Miss Gilbert, are you all right? Are you in any kind of—“ Patty didn’t get a chance to draw breath to finish her sentence before Erin bolted. “Hey! Do _not_ make me chase you!”

Showing no sign of slowing her mad dash for the street corner, Patty was forced to take chase lest she lose her mark after just making contact. By right, she’d done her job and found her query, but Patty had to actually _deliver_ the woman to the police or her father before any kind of final payment could be exchanged.

“ _Fuck_ my life, man! Just, fuck it.”

Six weeks healing in the Underground ensured Erin her body was back to some semblance of normalcy, but her endurance had been shot to shit due to inactivity. As was most always the case, adrenaline kept her legs moving and her arms pumping, but she was losing steam, the wintery air burning her lungs with each inhale. But she had to keep going. Had to run. Had to hide. It wasn’t safe, her mind kept repeating over and over again. It wasn’t safe. You should have stayed with Holtzmann. It was safe with her.

Logic demanded she turn and face her pursuer. Self-preservation nixed that demand almost immediately. PI. Hitman. It didn’t matter. If Erin couldn’t tell the difference between the two she wasn’t about to find out _by asking the person chasing her_. She’d been abducted in what would have been considered broad daylight once before. Never again. She’d never be a victim like that again.

So when she felt something catch her left arm and pull, Erin didn’t hesitate spinning on her heels and swinging with a closed right fist. It was a blind punch, more wild than purposefully directed. She had no idea if it would connect, but it did. A pained yelp and string of curses let her know she'd made solid contact. It was a slightly gratifying feeling had she not been fighting back acrid panic. The hand around her wrist let go, allowing Erin to cut sideways down an alley and disappear into the corridors separating New York buildings.   

Patty leaned heavily against the brick wall beside her, fingers pinching the bridge of her bleeding nose, trying to stem the flow. Hunched and wheezing, she helplessly watched the woman disappear around a corner and groaned. This was just not her day.

“Patty, baby, remind yourself again why this was worth it?” she grumbled, spitting blood that had dribbled into her mouth and exhaling a great puff of steam. “Is the money that good?” A brief pause to consider. “Hell fucking yes it is, but Jesus, I did not need this.”

Returning to her car, Patty cleaned herself up as much as possible and planned her next few moves. Erin was obviously alive and well—or at least well enough to take a swing at someone. Patty should have made the call to NYPD and let them know what she’d found, but without a body physically in front of her, she wasn’t about to do anything until she could get Erin cornered. As unbelievable as it was, tipping off the boys in blue could lead to a sticky situation if someone unsavory was listening in and actively looking for Erin. Her disappearance had the stench of mob all over it. Best to play it safe, so Patty would wait, knowing the rogue DA wouldn’t take long returning because this was home. This was familiarity, and Patty recognized that desperate burn in the brunette the moment she’d set eyes on her. Erin wanted to go home, so home is where Patty would wait. 

* * *

 

It wasn’t hard losing the other woman in the alleys. Erin was no street rat. She didn’t know the ins and outs of the city as well as some, but she knew enough to keep hidden until the sun began to set, casting long, welcome shadows across the city. Cold though she might have been—her borrowed hoodie and jeans not nearly thick enough to stave off the wintery chill—Erin waited until the sky turned blue-black before sliding out of her hiding place behind a laundromat and picking her way back to her apartment.

Skittish of onlookers, the brunette kept her head low and her hood drawn, heart a churning piston in her chest. Every car passing by made her jump. Every flash of headlight. Every shoulder or arm that bumped hers. More than once, Erin wondered if returning had been the right decision. The Underground wasn’t her home, but she’d felt safe there. Felt safe with Holtz by her side. Unconsciously, Erin rubbed the fingers of her right hand together, the memory of Holtzmann’s hand slipping from hers a distant and aching echo.

Rooted on a street corner choked with pedestrians waiting to cross at the light, Erin gathered her courage before walking with haste to her apartment and climbing the front steps, bracing for another confrontation. No one intercepted her. No one called her name. No one looked twice.

Giddy with relief, Erin pushed open the front doors and almost wept when the familiar smell of lemon-scented floor polish and bleach hit her nose. It was hard not running to the elevator and slamming the button. So close. She was so close to being literally home free.

Stepping out of the elevator on the eighth floor, Erin checked whether or not the coast was clear before finally giving in and bolting to her door. Hand on the knob, the brunette felt tears prick her eyes until a chilling thought hit her, bringing the world crashing down. Here she was, back in her apartment, back on her floor, so close to sanctuary, but she lacked the means to enter. Erin didn’t have her keys. Erin didn’t have anything, really. No ID. No credit cards. Nothing. She was a nameless face standing in front of a locked door, feeling for all the world like her heart had just dropped into her stomach.

“I can’t get in,” she sucked in a quivering breath, trying her hardest not to break down into tears, resting her head against the cool wood.

So close. It wasn’t fair.

Fighting back a hard sniff, Erin tried the handle—just to see, just to be sure she really was locked out of her life—and is more than a little stunned when the thumb pad clicks down and the door creaks open.

It was unlocked. Her door was unlocked. How or why suddenly didn’t matter because Erin could see a bit of her apartment through the dark slit as the heavy door swung open. Thankfully, hesitancy and suspicion won over desperation. There could be a hundred reasons her door was unlocked, and none of them were savory.

Slowly, Erin pushed her way in, eyes and ears open and ready. Anyone familiar with horror movies knew not to call out into a dark room. That was guaranteeing a knife in the neck. Instead, the brunette kept her hand on the knob while the other groped for the light switch near the door. Her fingers barely brushed the metal plate when the door was suddenly jerked out of her grip and kicked forward, ensuring the wood made hard contact with the right side of her body. Stunned, Erin stumbled to the left and had just enough time to catch herself before the door slammed shut and light flooded the apartment.

“Figured you’d come back after dark.”

Hyperventilating, Erin spins to face the speaker, world fuzzy around the edges. It was happening again. Oh god, she couldn’t do this again!

Only it’s not a thug waiting for her. Instead, it’s the tall, dark-skinned woman from before. The one who said she was a PI. The one glaring at Erin, back pressed against the door with her arms crossed.

“You ain’t that hard to read, baby,” Patty sniffs when the look of shock on the smaller woman’s face leeches the color from her skin.

Poised like a deer flushed out by a hunter, Erin searched for any means of escape and zeroes in on the window across the room. The one that lead to her fire escape. If only she could… 

“Baby, I’m only gonna say this once,” Patty rumbles, pinning Erin with a hard stare. “Today’s been a shit day, and you’ve got me in mood. Now, your daddy didn’t say anything about you coming back to him whole. He just wants you back, so if you make a move towards that window I might be inclined to shoot out a knee. We good? We clear?”

If Erin paled any further she’d become transparent.

Digging out her license, Patty tosses it to the frozen woman. “Take a look. I know you’re a DA, so I know you know what to look for. I’m just gonna stand right here while you decide what happens next.”

Hesitating, Erin eventually stoops and picks up the license, scrutinizing it closely, looking for inconsistencies or telltale signs of forgery. She finds nothing. The license was real. Feeling faint, the brunette slides down the back of her couch to the floor. Reality catching up made it feel like the weight of the world had settled on her shoulders.

“We calmed down enough now to act like a civil human being?” Patty asks, still not moving.

“Has it really been six weeks?” Erin asks in a small voice, feeling suddenly disoriented. When she looks up at Patty, the taller woman softens, her anger ebbing.

“Yeah, baby, it has.”

“My father hired you?”

“You know how slowly the folks in blue move. He added me to the case so the wheels would remain greased, so to speak. I have the paperwork in my car I can show you later. Right now, I need to get you to a hospital and take a—“

“No!” Erin snaps, surprising the PI with her vehemence. She didn’t appear panicked so much as desperate. “No hospitals. No going anywhere. I just…I just want to take a shower and be in my own home. That’s all. I know what procedure you need to go through so just…give me a minute to acclimate.”

Lips pressed in a thin line, Patty regarded the woman for a beat. “If I walk away from this door, are you gonna bolt on me again?” Erin shakes her head, brown hair swinging. “Okay. Let’s move this conversation to the couch, shall we?”

“I really, _really_ want a shower. If you give me that, I’ll give you a full statement to take to the police and my father. Hell, I’ll call him myself, just let me get clean and into my own clothes.”

The PI considered the woman—curled up on the floor, knees to her chest, looking like a scared child left behind by their parents at the park and not like the confident DA Patty had seen on the news—and caves with a sigh. “You know what I’m doing is against all kinds of protocol, but fine. I’m still going to need to call this in.”

“I know,” Erin nods, climbing to her feet. She points to something over Patty’s shoulder. “There are plastic bags in the cupboard. I’ll put my clothes in them.”

Patty blinks, eyebrows rising. “You know I’m not a cop, right? I can’t stop you from just throwing them on the floor. This isn’t an official investigation. I was only hired to find you.”

“I know the procedures, though,” Erin replies curtly. “Make the call. I’ll be out by the time the officers get here.” Without another word, Erin retrieves two plastic sacks and strips out of her borrowed clothes in the bathroom, leaving them outside the door.

Once safely sequestered in the moderately spacious master bathroom, Erin properly scrutinized herself in the mirror over her sink while her shower heated. She didn’t look like herself. Not completely unrecognizable, but there were hard lines under her eyes and a leanness to her face that hadn’t been there before. Her eyes were the most changed. It was like an innocence had been lost, dying in her place back in the snowy park. A phoenix stood in those ashes, but it was difficult to tell whether or not this phoenix would fly or succumb to the fire still raging around her.

Judging the water hot enough, Erin stepped in and immediately sank to the tiled floor, overwhelmed and overjoyed at the same absurd time. The tidal wave she’d been running from since waking in the Underground finally crested her hastily built walls. In the familiar seclusion of her bathroom, Erin let herself properly cry for the first time. Likely, it wouldn’t be the last time, but it was a step towards the healing she knew she needed.

It was quite some time before she emerged from the bathroom scrubbed clean and cherry red from the heat of the water. A city detective waited in her living room, chatting amiably with Patty. When she entered—wrapped only in a robe because Erin knew a bodily examination was in order—the woman stood and offered a hand.

“Miss Gilbert,” she greeted with a kind smile. “Detective Cecile De’fante, NYPD. I’m glad to see you’ve returned to us whole and healthy. If you’re feeling up to it, I’d like to take a statement.”

It wasn’t a request.    

“Of course. Would it be all right if I made an order for something to eat? It’s been…quite a while since last I ate.”

The detective gave Patty a look but merely shrugged, handing Erin her landline.

“Right, now that that’s taken care of, let’s get down to business.” Erin nodded, taking a seat on her couch while Cecile took the chair across from her. Patty stood near the door. “I guess the first order of business it to discuss where you’ve been for the past six weeks.”

Erin answered as evenly as possible, keeping her gaze centered around the young-ish detective. Her recounting of the incident was as detailed as she could make it. She gave a description of the van and the men who had taken her. Described in graphic detail what they had done to her. Showed the detective what little remained of her injuries and the fresh scar from the knife wound on her left side. Explained it was a mob hit gone wrong…but when the inevitable question arose as to where Erin had been, the brunette faltered.

“I’m sorry, detective, but I can’t answer that.”

Cecile cocked an eyebrow, glancing up from her pad of paper. “If you are in danger, Miss Gilbert, I need to know.”

Erin closed her eyes, hating what came next. “The people who helped me, they are friends of mine, and after learning my attack was a potential mob hit, they were fearful for their lives. They asked to remain anonymous, and I intend to keep it that way. I am here now, so that should settle the matter.”

Cecile didn’t look convinced and neither did Patty, but there was nothing either could do. There were no laws against protecting a good Samaritan.  

“I see. Well, I believe that’s it then.” Cecile stood and extended a hand again, which Erin shook. “I will be in touch, Miss Gilbert. I will also need you to stop by the station in the morning for paperwork. You know the drill. Until then, I’ll place an officer outside your building.”

Erin nodded her thanks, unsure she needed the protection but appreciating the anticipation. She bid the detective good evening and would have done the same with Patty had the PI not pulled out her phone and dialed Erin’s father. The brunette wasn’t sure she was ready to have that conversation and was saved when a knock at the door provided a momentary distraction.

“Delivery from Zou’s,” a voice called through the door. The delivery man seemed to register Erin’s puzzled expression when she opened the door and shrugged, handing over a sack of food. “Benny’s sick. Stomach flu, of all things. Ain’t the food, thank god.”

“Tell him I hope he feels better,” Erin smiled, nodding good-bye, but the man stopped her before she shut the door, handing over a piece of paper. “Oh, I usually put it on a tab, sorry.”

“Nah, you’re fine. Mother just wanted me to give you this. Have a good day, Miss Gilbert.”

Erin felt the oxygen leave the room. The haze she’d felt earlier that evening crept back into her brain, fuzzing the edges of her vision. Frozen, she watched the man until he disappeared into the elevator with a smile and a wink that chilled the DA to her core.

“Yo, Erin, your father wants to…Erin?” Patty noted the woman’s pale expression and white-knuckle grip on her bag. “You okay?”

What should she do? What _could_ she do?

“I’m…I’m f-fine. Just tired,” she lied, trying to shake off the terror swirling anew in her blood. How had they found her? “Please, tell my father I’ll call him in the morning. I need…to lie down.”

Erin didn’t hear whether or not Patty relayed the message. Shutting the door, she set the bag of food on the counter—unwilling to eat any of it now—and opened the note with shaking hands. A tight, neat line of text was all that waited for her.

 _I trust you will keep your promise in regards to your silence. We are watching._  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun DDDUUUNNNN!! Mother has eyes everywhere. That's not creepy at all. But look! Patty's joined the ranks now and won't' be leaving anytime soon. 
> 
> This chapter, man. I didn't think I'd get it done on time. This past week has been terrible on my mental health and I'm not been doing all that well. Better now, but things got dicey for a while. I'm glad I was still able to get this all to you in a reasonable fashion. If you would please let me know what you think, that would be grand.
> 
> Reviews literally help me write faster. Please and thank you, my friends =)


	12. Chapter 12

“Miss Gilbert! Miss Gilbert, can you give us a statement?”

“Miss Gilbert, you’ve been missing for six weeks. Can you go into detail as to why you had to go into hiding?”

“Were you really targeted by Falconi? Do you have any idea what his motives could have been?”

“Was your father in on this?”

“Do you think your firm’s ties with the mob may have caused this?”

Erin slams into the wall of chaos and noise the second she steps foot outside her apartment, reporters swarming her like vultures on a carcass. Jostling. Bumping. Shoving their microphones in her face. Flashing cameras in her eyes. Shouting over one another in a mad scramble to be the first to catch an exhaled breath from her lips. It’s disorienting and more than a little terrifying to be mobbed first thing in the morning.

It had taken exactly three days for word to spread around New York about the missing DA who had apparently “come back from the dead”. Erin had known her situation would eventually get out and draw all manner of attention, but she hadn’t expected the level of frenzy that would take the world of journalism by storm. Erin was by no means a high-profile prosecutor, but she had her face in the papers and on TV enough people recognized her. Now, apparently, she was the hottest, juiciest story this side of the East River. Hell, with as many reporters as there were outside her home today, it might just be the whole damn East Coast itching to get her side of the story.

“Ey, ey! Give the lady some room, for fucks sake!” a voice booms over the unending, demanding chatter. A moment later, Erin feels a strong set of fingers catch her by the elbow. Even though she jumps at the contact, the brunette is immensely grateful for Patty’s gruff presence.

“I told you all to step back!” Patty thunders when the masses ignore her, throwing out an arm to sweep a path clear for the smaller woman. “Next person who shoves a mic in my face if gonna eat it, we clear?”

Finally making it to the PI’s beat up blue Chevy, Erin slides into the passenger’s seat and slams the door, effectively hitting mute on the paparazzi. Her jaw aches from clenching her back teeth. In her lap, her hands shake. Cold sweat makes her fashionable blouse and blazer stick to her ribs while threatening her carefully applied makeup. Patty swings into the vehicle with nimble grace, slamming her own door with a loud thump that rocks the small car.

“Goddamn, they really are like fucking sharks. First sign of blood and they swarm. You okay over there, tiny?”

Erin manages a curt nod, eyes ahead, mentally overriding the panic mixing toxically with anxiety in her blood. Six weeks ago, crowds like that wouldn’t have phased her. She would have walked through them with cool grace, answering questions cryptically or not at all. Maybe even throwing cheeky grins at cameras or quips to reporters. Now, she could hardly keep from shaking, heart a piston churning in her chest. Speaking wasn't even a possibility, her throat snapping closed the moment she moved to give a statement.

Patty takes her silent nod as an answer and puts the car into drive, all but mowing over more than a few reporters both bold and stupid enough to jump in front of the car for one final picture. Then they turn into traffic and the mob falls behind.

“Hell of a way to start your morning,” the PI snorts, easing back into her seat.

“Yep,” is all Erin can manage, her back muscles starting to burn from how rigidly she was sitting. Staring out the window, she couldn’t help but feel disturbingly disjointed. This was her city. She’d practically grown up here, but it all felt strange and foreign. That or it was her who was the strange, foreign entity. Hard telling. Fact of the matter was, Erin just wanted to feel herself again, but that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

“If you’re gonna puke, please do it like a dog out the window,” Patty comments, noting how pale Erin had become. “Already had to shampoo these carpets once this year. Don’t what to shell out for it again.”

“Will try my best.”

“You get ahold of your father?”

Erin nods again, neglecting to go into further detail about their conversation, or lack thereof. Christopher Gilbert wasn’t a man of sentiment despite his evident display for the media. As far as Erin was concerned, it was all for posterity’s sake. Assurance his investments into his daughter’s career hadn’t been for not. They'd spoken long enough for Erin to ensure the man she was whole and healthy before her father ended the call with clipped instructions to keep him in the know of any further developments in her case. That was the extent of their relationship.

“Good. Then my end of the deal has been sealed.” Patty thumps a fast tattoo on the steering wheel with her thumbs in rhythm with the song coming out of the car's speakers, grinning widely.

The ride to the station was a quiet one save for sudden outbursts from Patty due to the stresses of typical New York traffic. They pull into a reserved lot where the PI lets her passenger out with instructions of where to go to meet the detective overseeing Erin’s case before she u-turns, searching for a parking spot.

As it turns out, getting to the station took longer than Erin’s actual visit. After offering her coffee and a light chat, Detective De’fante revealed she only needed to go over a few more pieces of paperwork before the department and great state of New York could declare Erin “properly resurrected”.

“I’ll need you to stop by sometime later today to sign these last few documents after the judge I sent them to faxes them back, but as it stands, you are free and clear. Welcome back to the world of the living, Miss Gilbert.”

Erin forced a smile—trying and failing to tap into the easy going, confident woman she’d been six weeks ago— and shook the woman’s hand before heading to her next crucial appointment at her law firm to face the inevitable music. Taking a cab instead of catching a ride with Patty, Erin stood for an indeterminate period of time outside the building, gazing up at the skyscraper disappearing well into the blue heavens above. It was hard standing there. Hard not shifting her gaze to the right. Erin knew exactly where her abduction had happened. From where she stood, she could see the strip of sidewalk that had ultimately changed the course of her life forever. Working up the courage to move took more time than she thought necessary, but she had obligations to meet. The world didn't end with her fear.

Needless to say, her reappearance at the firm was akin to the second coming of Christ. More than a few heads did full one-eighties when she walked past, faking a cool form of detachment that flagged when buzzed into her boss' office by a wide-eyed receptionist. The man behind the desk who wore suits sharp enough they could cut glass at a distance almost choked on his coffee before hurrying to her side and bypassing normal pleasantries with a crushing hug, muttering a hasty, “thank god you’re not dead” into her shoulder.

"It's good to see you too, Phillip," Erin wheezed out before Phillip deposited the gasping woman in a chair and ordering his secretary to hold all calls. It didn't take long for the DA to bypass Phillip's obvious need to know what happened to one of his best attorneys and ask about the status of her cases and place at the firm.

“With everything that happened, we didn’t know what to do,” Phillip said from across his desk, spreading his hands helplessly. “Your cases and active clients have been piecemealed out to other attorneys. Without knowing what happened to you—“

“I’m well aware of protocol,” Erin sighed in her seat, throwing her head back to stare at the ceiling. She’d been dreading this. While this was to be expected—Erin didn’t believe for a minute her cases would remain stagnant—this left the brunette currently in a state of limbo. “I was just hoping to get back to work as soon as possible.”

“Is that really wise?” Phillip asked, giving the brunette a worried look. Professional though the two might have been, Phillip was one of Erin’s closest friends at the firm. “Erin, you were _abducted_ right outside this office. Why on earth are you even here right now?”

“Because I have a job to do,” Erin replied a little more sharply than necessary, returning Phillip’s frown. Some would call her a workaholic. Erin liked to think she was just dedicated. “The world doesn’t stop—“

“It does when something like this happens to you! Erin, I’m talking here as your friend and not your boss. Take some time and recover a little before diving back into the fray. Your work will be here when you get back, but honestly, you need some time to process. No one will blame you for taking a few weeks to reestablish yourself.”

Erin wanted to argue and say that the last thing she needed was time alone with her thoughts, but arguing with Phillip was a pointless gesture. His suggestion, despite being given as a friend, wasn’t as much a suggestion as it was a veiled command. He was still her boss.

“At least give me something I can work on at home. I can’t just sit and stare at my walls, or watch people outside my apartment.”

“Some of us have invested in these little things calls TVs, Gilbert. Maybe you should get one?” Phillip’s innocent suggestion is met with a snort from Erin.

“I have a TV, thank you. There’s just nothing good on when you work twelve hours a day five days a week.”

“Which is even _more_ of an incentive for you to _take a break_. Seriously. Find a new hobby. Take up a dance class. Do something fun for once. Crime isn’t going anywhere, trust me.”

Knowing she had no alternative but to accept, Erin nodded before standing and issuing her own ultimatum. “One month. I’ll take one month to get myself together, but I’m coming back after that, Phillip. Don’t give me any shit then, either. I’m only listening to you because you have power over my paycheck.”

The man raised his hands in surrender, coming around the desk to give Erin another squeezing hug. “It’s a deal. If you’d like something to keep your brilliant brain sharp, we’ve got a few minor cases that need filing and signatures. Grab them from Stephany before heading out.”

“Have a runner drop them off at my apartment. I have to make one last stop at the police station to finalize a few thing. Do you still have copies of my social security card and birth cirtificate on file?”

"Should, yes. You need me to fax that over to the DMV?"

"That would be wonderful. I currently have no IDs on me, which is a problem, you know, for someone who wants to buy copious amounts of liquor."

Phillip laughed at that. "I'll have the runner bring a bottle of wine for you too since you asked so nicely."

"You, good sir, are a lifesaver." Erin turned to leave but finds herself drawn back when Phillip gently snags her arm.

"I really am glad you're all right, Erin. When the news hit that you'd gone missing...I was afraid I wouldn't see one of my best friends again."

Erin softens, squeezing the man's fingers. "I was afraid I wouldn't see you again, either."

Phillip nodded, not a fan of heavy sentiment, and saw the shorter woman out. Unlike that morning, there were no journalists waiting to pounce. Just the normal bustle of New York traffic and a few parked cars along the street. Still understandably leery of being near stationary vehicles, Erin is thankful her colleague opted to stay and chat while a company car was brought around. Lost in cordial conversation, it almost slips Erin’s notice when a dark Cadillac slides by a little more slowly than necessary. Almost.

_We’ll be watching._

Unbidden, the last line of Gorin’s note flashes through Erin’s mind. Watching…it was just a nicer term for stalking. The DA feels the hairs raise on the back of her neck and fights down a dry swallow. Suddenly the street feels too open, her person too exposed even with Phillip at her side. When the firm’s car comes to a stop at the curb it’s all Erin can do to get in it as fast as possible.

 _Don’t get paranoid, Gilbert,_ she chastised herself, head in her hands. _Paranoia makes you sloppy._

But it was also a survival technique the DA wasn’t about the ignore. Not now. Not after what had happened. Likely, she’d never feel entirely safe again, and a part of Erin wanted to sob at the loss of ignorant innocence and the feeling of safety. She doesn’t. Instead, she fixes her makeup and hair like she’s adjusting her armor, readying herself for the next step.

Arriving at the police station sometime later, Erin was forced to wait for De’fante to return from a previous engagement, killing time in the lobby by reading the paper and the article with her face—specifically, the missing person’s flier—splashed across the front page. She studiously ignored that headline, already knowing what it would say. Instead, she tried to catch herself up with all that had happened in the time she'd been gone. Six weeks could move as fast as a year in New York time.

“Miss, Gilbert!” De’fante smiled, catching the DA’s attention as she strolled into the precinct beside a jovial looking Patty who gave the brunette a polite nod. The two parted ways after entering. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to keep you waiting. If you’ll follow me.”

Another polite chat ensued. Pleasantries exchanged. The whole nine-yards, while Erin waited with chafing patience for the day to come to a close. After the last paper was signed and sealed, De’fante reclined in her chair looking pleased.

“That’s it then. If we have any more questions for you, we’ll be in touch.”

“Will you be looking into Falconi?” Erin inquired, sliding the envelope across the desk with her fingertips.

De’fante leaned forward, sucking her perfect white teeth as she did. “Based on your testimony, we will, but you and I both know it’s a long shot. Anything we throw at Falconi is going to bounce off like he’s made of Teflon. The men he hired are probably long gone, but we have a sketch artist available if you want to get their faces out to the public and see if that jogs anyone’s memory.”

Erin ponders this before deflating. “There’s no point. I only saw the one who stabbed me, and even then it was dark in the van. I can’t give you a clear description of anything, only what he said.”

De’fante nods solemnly. “Which is basically circumstantial at best. Any Falconi lawyer would blow holes bigger than the Titanic in that defense. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to look into this. You have my word. We’ll hang him to dry at some point.”

Erin thanks the detective and takes her leave, eager to return home and collapse into the familiarity of her quiet apartment. With any luck, the reporters wouldn't be waiting to ambush her again. That, she knew, was wishful thinking. The day had dawned clear, but by mid-afternoon the sky was filled with clouds threatening rain. Even over the permanent smell of car exhaust, Erin could smell water in the air and pulled her coat closer around her torso.

Standing at the curb, the DA stretches her arm to hails a taxi only to freeze halfway through the gesture, heart leaping into her throat. Across the street, almost completely parallel with the precinct, sits a sleek black Cadillac. Same make and model as the one that had passed her firm. Same tinted windows. Same predatory look. And outside the vehicle stood two men; both wearing sharper black suits than Phillip, both sporting equally dark shades and faces carved from marble.

The world tilts under the woman’s feet, threatening to drag Erin down to the concrete.

These weren’t thugs. These weren’t hired hands. These were payrolled employees, and Erin didn’t need to think hard about who their employer might be. Mob families always had a certain flare about them, especially when it came to flexing their muscle in the form of henchmen or hitmen. Judging by their clinical look, the two men were the latter of the two.    

The men silently watch Erin watching them, unperturbed about unmasking their presence, which meant only one thing. This was a warning. A silent threat the noise Erin was making about the Falconi family arranging her accidental abduction wasn’t wanted.

The standoff between the three lasts another few frantic heartbeats until the men smoothly slide back into their car and take off in the opposite direction. Erin watches until the car faded from view, unable to fully catch her breath. She’d already come face-to-face with the claws of the mob, she had no interest falling into the teeth of the beast.

Erin jumps a full foot and nearly screams when something firms comes down on her shoulder. Her hard twist away is involuntary, making the person beside her recoil.

“Whoa hey, don’t go swinging on me again, okay?” Patty warns, hands up and ready to catch Erin’s if the smaller woman decided to sucker punch her again.

The brunette is slow to calm and even out her rapid breathing, something the PI picks up on almost right away. Squinting, Patty curiously tilts her head before giving the area a quick once-over. “Something got you spooked?”

It’s a solid thirty seconds before Erin answers. In that time, the first few spatters of rain begin to darken the sidewalk around them.

“It’s nothing,” she manages, taking a moment to straighten her blazer and retain her poise. Patty, however, isn’t buying it.

“Bullshit. Try again, only this time try not lying to an ex-cop. One of my superpowers is being a human lie detector.”

“I’m not…” but she stops herself from finishing, biting her bottom lip. Distantly, Erin wonders, between Gorin and now this, how much more shock her system could take. “I think…I’m being followed,” Erin finally admits, unable to keep the uneven laugh from bubbling out of her throat. “Which is insane and likely just me being paranoid, but I think I keep seeing cars following me and people watching me, and I’m to the point of wondering if this is real or some sort of PTSD from the attack or just my mind play tricks. Or maybe I am being followed because I just saw a black car with two hitmen staring at me, but I can’t be sure because I’m—“

“Baby, take a breath before you pass out,” Patty says, guiding the shaking, hyperventilating woman off the curb and under an overhang as the rain picks up into a steady, soaking drizzle. “If you don’t calm down you’re gonna pass out, and I’m not doing mouth to mouth. So breath and start again.”

Taking the advice to heart and smoothing her damp hair back with a long breath in and out, Erin laughed again, “I sound absolutely unhinged.”

“No, you sound scared, and look, I believe you.” That hadn’t been expected, and the expression on Erin’s face says as much. “I was a cop for almost twenty years, baby. Had I not taken a bullet to the hip, I’d still be one. Fact of the matter is, I learned a long time ago to listen to a woman when she says things like stalking or harassment. Had too many girls come into the station with complaints like that who were turned away because they were being ‘hysterical’ or ‘unreasonable’ or ‘lying’.” Patty goes quiet for a moment, mind lost to unhappy memory. “Too many times those girls didn’t come back, or I read about them in the obits. So yeah, I take shit like that seriously. You tell me you think you’re being stalked, I’ll listen.”

Erin didn’t know whether to cry or wrap her arms around the taller woman or both. She did neither, instead folding her arms across her chest and sucking in her top lip. “Patty, I think I’m being stalked.”

“Good place to start,” the woman nods. “Any idea by whom?”

“The men I just saw looked like hitmen. Best guess? Falconi.”

“Man doesn’t like loose ends, and you are one damn big loose end,” Patty considers this a moment before coming to an unspoken decision. “Seems you need someone watching your back.”

“Like a…?”

“Bodyguard,” Patty deadpans. “Come on, I know you’re not that slow.”

“I’m not sure that’s really a good idea.”

The PI’s eyebrows slowly creep into her colorful hairline. “Care to explain why?”

“I can’t…” Erin turns in profile, far too rattled to give this the attention it deserved. Not when her mind was going a thousand different directions at once. “I can’t just hire a bodyguard because I feel scared. I can’t expect someone else to watch my back. I can’t live my life always afraid and needing someone there to hold my hand. That’s not how I was raised.”

“And I get that, I do, but you’re new to this game, baby, and you’re gonna wind up dead if you don’t get someone to show you the ropes.”

“I’m a DA, Patty. Games are my life.”

“Yeah, well now your life has turned into a cat and mouse game between you and the mob. Think you know enough about these people to keep them from pulling a repeat of what they did six weeks ago?”

Erin cringes, hugging herself a little tighter. Secretly, she wonders for the hundredth time if coming back aboveground was the wisest decision…

“Sorry to bring up bad memories, but it’s a fair question. Look, I ain’t gonna twist your arm. Not my place. Not my battle. You’re a grown ass woman who can make decisions for herself.”

“What would…you do?” Erin asks quietly.

“Take the fucking help! Pretty easy answer. Doesn’t have to be permanent, but you need a second set of eyes for a bit, and I know a PI with an open schedule, provided you can pay.”

Erin snorts and throws her head back, listening to the patter of rain on the overhang above. “So it’s about the money?”

“Money greases the wheels, baby,” the PI shrugs, spreading her hands. “If you’re interested, we’ll work something out, but my ass don’t work for free.”

 The two fall into radio silence while Erin mulls over the proposition. Finally, she breaths out a plume of white vapor, a smile ghosting across her lips. “I’ll pay you what my father paid you. Does that sound fair?”

Patty’s grin was all tooth and gums. “Hell yeah! Count my ass in for starting today. First order of business, gonna check your apartment and make sure it ain’t bugged. I’m more than sure it’s not, but hey, better safe than sorry, right? And while I’m at it, you can make me some of that fancy coffee in your even fancier French press.”

“How did you…”

“Girl, I had to search your apartment while you were gone. Ain’t a thing in there I don’t already know about.” Patty adds a wink at the end that has Erin’s cheeks reddening a bit if the PI was alluding to what she thought she was.

“Wonderful.”

“Aww don’t be like that. I’ve got a feeling this is the beginning of a beautiful working relationship.”

Though it was said with more sarcasm than necessary, Erin starts to feel the tension in her body lessen some. Having a professional at her back took the edge off, for the most part. It simply remained unsaid if having Patty around would be enough of a deterrent to keep the DA safe for the foreseeable future.  

 _Holtz,_ Erin thought as the two climbed into a cab bound for her apartment, her mind drifting back to the Undergrounder. _I hope your handling things better than I am. I’m starting to think maybe your mother has a good thing going with people disappearing into the Underground._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, guys. We'll get back to Holtz and Erin together, just gotta establish a bit of groundwork first. And hey! Now Patty's a permanent part of the cast! Next chapter we'll get back to our favorite tunnel rat and see how she's adjusting....or not adjusting XD
> 
> Also, apologies for not getting you all an update last week. It was a rough one school-wise. Should be back on schedule this week...hopefully. 
> 
> Reviews help me write faster and let me know what you all think. Seriously, come flail at me for anything.


	13. Chapter 13

“I swear to god, if you play _Everybody Hurts_ or _Behind Blue Eyes_ one more time,” Abby shouts from the base of the engineer’s machine. “I’m going to take your boombox and shove it up your ass!”

The puff of blonde hair sticking out of the nook some ten feet up in the impressive twist of metal shifts. Holtz barely lifts her head to peer over the edge, giving the woman a morose look but no answers. Below, the melancholic song continues to preen, a few decibels lower thanks to Abby.

“Don’t give me that look!” the blind woman snaps, sensing the unimpressed expression on Holtzmann’s face. “I’ve put up with you moping for two weeks. It’s time to put on your big girl pants and move on.”

 _I miss her,_ she says, staring up at the pipes and pistons crisscrossing above her like mechanical veins. Holtz had sequestered herself into the heart of her hydroelectric machine, hoping if she could get herself to understand its electrical heartbeat she could figure out her own.

It had been a grand total of two weeks since Erin left the Underground. Fourteen days. Three-hundred and thirty-six hours. 20,160 minutes…

Not like Holtzmann was counting. Never that. She didn’t look at the clock every few minutes and feel a part of herself wither a little. She didn’t jump at familiar laughter or footsteps, heart rate accelerating only to crash and burn when the brunette didn’t appear.

Truly, it was maddening, and she was starting to wonder about the state of her sanity.

What was this? Why did she feel like this…like her motivation had been sucked out of her marrow and replaced with led? Why was it she wandered the halls of her subterranean home, unsure where to go, where to put her hands, or where her once sharp mind had gone. It was like Erin was Apollo and had taken the sun. Things were in perpetual shades of twilight, and the murky depths of Holtzmann’s mind were little comfort.

“Oh my god!” Abby covers her face with her hands. “I don’t even know where to start with you. How can you miss her? You barely knew her!”

_She was down here for six weeks. I got to know her._

“Exactly! Six weeks, Holtz, and most of that she was barely conscious for.”

_I’d like to think we became friends._

Abby knew better than to rebut with the comment loaded on her tongue. “I don’t doubt that,” she grits out. “You’re very easy to get along with when you’re not blasting tooth-rotting pining songs through most of the Underground. Good god, you might have poisoned the water system with all this gushy rot.”

 _Seemed appropriate,_ Holtz muttered, feeling a flush warm her cheeks. It was ridiculous. Sappy love songs were reserved for people _actually_ in love.

“What do you want to do, Holtz?” Abby eventually deflates, way out of her league and knowing it.

There was a slight pause of uncertainty from the blonde engineer. _I just want to make sure she’s okay,_ Holtz admits, picking at her jeans. _What if she didn’t make it back to her apartment? What if the men who hurt her were waiting for her? What if it wasn’t a case of mistaken identity like she thought? Abby, I don’t know what I’d do if she wound up dead._

The shorter woman sucks in a long breath and lets it out just as slowly. “You’d move on.” It was callous, she knew, but it was the truth. “We all have to in some way, shape, or form. People walk in and out of our lives every day. Trying to hold onto them is like trying to hold onto smoke. I’m not saying anything happened to Erin. In fact, I’m more than positive she’s already slipped back into the rhythm of her old life. That’s just the way of things, pup. And I know you’re worried, but you can’t kill yourself getting hung up on one Topsider. She’s gone. Like it or not, you need to move on.”

 _You’re talking like she’s dead._ Holtz was becoming petulant, as was her M.O. when things beyond her control frustrated her. _It wouldn’t take much to check…_

“What are you going to do? Merrily jaunt Topside and knock on her door? Ask her to come to dinner? That would be rich watching your mother’s reaction, holy hell.”

 _Don’t mock me,_ the blonde scowled, peering over the lip of her nook. Unsurprisingly, Abby was looking directly at her with a decidedly ‘mom look’.

“Don’t give me a reason to! You knew this was going to happen.”

 _I know,_ Holtz snapped, fighting the urge to ball her fists. Even with her nails filed, they were sharp. _I just…didn’t expect to feel like this. I don’t know what to do, Abby! I feel lost when I know I shouldn’t be. I don’t know how else to explain it! I just…can’t get my mind to make sense._

“So you created a routine around her,” the blind woman sighed, coming at this from a slightly different perspective. “For a while, you and her were each other’s company. You got used to that routine, and now that she’s gone, you’re having trouble readjusting.”

 _I guess_.

“More than a guess. It's what happened and why you’re struggling. Which isn’t bad. You’ll find your own rhythm once you pull your head out of your butt and start doing normal Holtz stuff like try to blow up half the city with you crazy-ass machines.”

 _It would be a quarter of the city,_ Holtz corrects with a sniff.

“Oh ho ho, my mistake for _overestimating_ the level of destruction you can bring. My apologies.”

The two share a tight laugh before the mood become somber once more.

_What am I going to do, Abby?_

“For starters? Climb down and go get some food.”

Flipping onto her stomach, Holtz gave the woman below her a flat look, which Abby returned, a challenge hinted in the quirk of her eyebrow.

“I’m serious. Me, of all people, know when you don’t eat, and you’ve not been eating. I brought you pizza, and you didn’t devour it on sight. I brought you Chinese food and it wasn’t touched. And before you say anything, half a can of Pringles is not a meal. Go to market. Maybe see if one of the Helpers brought down sweets again, but for the love of god, leave your lab. I promise, a little time away will help clear your head.”

Holtz wasn’t remotely convinced. In fact, she knew it wouldn’t work because she’d tried doing that exact thing more than a dozen times since Erin left. But this was Abby, and she couldn’t very well keep arguing. Well, she could, but it would go nowhere fast. And if Abby got Mother involved…

_All right. Fine. You win._

“Thank god,” Abby sags in relief and hits stop on the boombox that had started playing _Kiss by a Rose_.

Pushing forward, Holtz slides headfirst out of the nook. With practiced ease, she reaches below herself, grabs a pipe, and flips over like a gymnast before sliding the rest of the way down. Abby takes one look at her and sighs afresh.

“You are absolutely filthy.”

 _And you’re blind. How can you tell?_ Sometimes, it was hard remembering Abby wasn’t completely blind. There were…strange conditions to her eyesight.

“You smell like the underside of a grease monkey’s ass, Holtzmann. If you got any more motor oil on your skin, I think you’d transform into a carburetor.”

_Happens when you become one with the heart of the machine._

“Honey, babycakes, precious niece of mine, take a shower.”

The blonde actually paused, lifting her arms to give herself a solid onceover. Unsurprisingly, she looked like an oil slick. Her unruly blonde hair was barely held back by a grimy bandanna and a sloppy bun at the nape of her neck. The clothes she was in were ruined, and the fact she couldn’t recall right away when her last shower had been made her wince. After so long, one tended to go nose-blind to their own stink.

_That bad?_

“Not even plague fleas would want to nibble on you.”

_Guess being filthy has its perks then?_

“Oh my god, _go_!” Abby stresses, shoving the oily engineer out the door. “And don’t make any pit stops! Shower then food. Those are your orders for the day.”

 _Oh captain my captain,_ Holtz salutes dramatically from the doorway before disappearing.

As it turned out, Holtz was indeed sorely in need of a shower. Stepping under the stream of hot water, she watched the rivulets swirling around her feet turn gray and black. And that was without the addition of soap.

_Okay, even I have to admit that’s gross._

Scrubbing quickly and redressing, the engineer did her best not to let her mind wander now that she was out of her lab. Truth be told, in or out, it didn’t matter. She had a one-track mind lately, and she hated it.

Beneath the goofy, approachable exterior, Holtz was a private person. There were few in her inner circle, and even fewer she could truly be herself around. It wasn’t for lack of trying. Her community was simply too small. Not everyone was meant to be a close confidant, and Holtz treasured those closest to her. But then she’d clicked with Erin in a big, unforeseen way. She’d made a telepathic connection.

Outside of Mother and Abby, there were only two or three people Holtz had been able to make that connection with. The how and why these seemingly random telepathic bridges appeared remained a mystery. Holtz took it as an unconscious sign from her body that the person was trustworthy. Probably not the best way to determine such an important standard, but logic had little place in Holtzmann’s world, and up until that point she’d trusted it emphatically.   

Then Erin came along. A Topsider. Someone Holtz was meant to distrust, yet she’d made a connection, throwing Holtz’s whole system out of whack. Nothing made sense, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shake her curiosity. Because that’s what it was. Erin was an anomaly in Holtzmann’s otherwise placid existence. Right?

A part of her worried it might be something more…nefarious. Nothing malicious, but she worried the reason she’d formed an attachment to Erin wasn’t simply because she was someone new in Holtz's stagnant life but because she’d shown her kindness. True, the two had a rocky start, but they eventually found traction, falling into comfortable coexistence. By the end of her stay, Holtz might even consider them friendly acquaintances, so was this her mind latching onto a friendly face and refusing to let go? Was this unhealthy? Gods, she didn’t have the slightest clue, and that made her want to scream.

Resigning to her dampened mood and childish brooding, Holtz made her way into the Underground proper, or the ‘square’ as the subterranean dwellers dubbed it. The closer she got the louder the chatter became until the massive cement chamber was buzzing with the rebounding echoes of dozens of conversations.

The Underground was a working, thriving community, and like any community, it needed direct access to resources. Thanks to Holtz’s innovations with irrigation, Abby and her small hand of Growers set up artificial greenhouses to help with the demand for fresh vegetables, but that was only half the battle. The rest was left up to Gorin, and Mother had made enough connections over the years her people never went without.

Every morning trusted Helpers would make deliveries of food and tradable goods. Every morning, the Undergrounders would head to “market” where fresh produce, perishable goods, and other items were unloaded from the lifts. One by one, each Undergrounder would walk along the offered selection and pick out what they needed for the day. Everyone got the same rationed amount—within reason because despite Gorin’s best efforts were was still a pecking order.

Anything extra that came down—toys, trinkets, sweets, exotic luxuries—were attained through a barter system with the Helpers.

“Holtzmann!”

The cry startled the engineer out of her internal turmoil, serving as her only warning before she was mobbed by a pack of kids and nearly pulled to the ground.

 _“Rugrats!”_ she signed, finding herself laughing when searching hands and fingers began combing through her pockets. Arms out, she let the attempted pilfering happen.

This was a routine mugging…of sorts. Whenever the Cave Kids—a name adopted by older members of the Underground and passed onto their children—ran across their favorite engineer they would search her for the treats or trinkets Holtz usually stowed away for them in her pockets. Since Topside currency didn’t exist below ground, it was left up to senior members of the subterranean city to teach the younger generation the ropes.

Today, however, the engineer didn’t have anything for her Cave Kids. A fact she quickly regretted upon seeing the disappointment on the small faces. No doubt, they had things they wanted to trade with her today. 

 _“I’m sorry, guys. I’ve been working really hard in my lab. I’ll have something to trade tomorrow,”_ she signed her apology, making sure to do it slowly so the kids could keep up. Most of them weren’t used to sign language or were still learning under Mother and Abby’s tutelage.

 _“Can I…trade bug…for a happy?”_ a tiny brunette boy attempted to say with his hands, stumbling through the motions. He realized his blunder before Holtz could correct him and amended. _“Smile, not happy. Trade a hug for a smile.”_

The engineer showed off her fangs in a grin—something her Cave Kids never got tired of seeing—more than pleased with Anthony’s progress. _“Of course! Hugs and smiles are free of trade. You can get them anytime!”_

Which was an open invitation for all six Cave Kids to tackle Holtzmann, succeeding in dragging her to the floor where she pretended to start eating a few of the smaller ones. They kicked and screamed with delight, twisting away only to jump on top of her again.

“You’ve been sad,” one of the younger ones pouted, curling in Holtz’s lap after the blonde righted herself—damp hair a disheveled mess around her shoulders now.

 _“I have been,”_ she admitted with a sad frown.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen? Mother has been grumpy a lot, too. She snapped at Tristen during class.”

“That’s because Tristen got caught passing notes to Becca again,” a little dark haired girl with equally dark skin and two missing front teeth whispered none-too-quietly to Holtz. The engineer tried to play up her shock.

_“No! Tristen? He’s always so good. He must like Becca.”_

“Ewww! Boys are gross! Why would Becca like him back?”

_“You’d have to ask her that.”_

Holtz couldn’t help but laugh at the different animated responses about possible crushes and her mother. The matriarch of the Underground’s moods were subject to change as abruptly as the wind, but recently she’d been more surly than usual. _“I’m sorry Mother’s been grumpy.”_

“But why are _you_ sad?”

_“A friend of mine went away.”_

“Oh,” a little ginger boy with a large port wine stain on his neck squeaked. “Did…did she go into the wall?”

Holtzmann nearly choked but managed to keep her smile intact. She remembered too late Tod’s grandfather passed away less than a month ago, and he was taking it hard. _“No. She had to go Topside for a while, that’s all.”_

‘The Wall’ referred to where the Undergrounders buried their dead. Though the community hadn’t been in existence for longer than forty years, death wasn’t something the subterranean people were immune to. Sometimes, those who came looking for shelter and aid were too far gone. Sometimes, accident happened even to the most careful. And rather than unceremoniously dumping the body in the water channels where it would no doubt wash into the river, Mother made a point to humanely dispose of the diseased through cremation before burying them in a crypt. Loved one could make plaques. If there was no one to claim the diseased, Holtz or Gorin made a plaque. No one was forgotten. Not in the Underground.

 _“Hey, have you all gotten rations?”_ Holtz was met with half a dozen different answers that eventually pointed to, “our parents are getting them”. _“I need to go help pass things out. Why don’t you go find Aunt Abby?I bet if you ask really nicely she’ll let you all watch a movie before class. Don’t tell her I said that.”_

Holtz had to repeat herself twice with smaller signed words before the Cave Kids got the message and rushed off in a whooping pack. Standing, the engineer couldn’t help grin. Payback was a bitch. Oh, Abby would be fine, but being mobbed by a bunch of Disney-hungry hooligans first thing in the morning was always a fun surprise.

By now the square was steadily filling up with Undergrounders eager to see what the day’s rations would be. Mother had it set up there was always a fruit vendor, butcher—even if it was scraps, baker—despite there being two working brick ovens in the subterranean city, dairy if it was available, and baby food if it was needed. There had been three new births in the Underground, so there was a need.

Threading her way through the line and making for the lifts, Holtz waved to a few friendly faces before searching out her favorite Helper. Spotting the man, she made a rude noise with her mouth to get his attention.

“Hey! If it’s not my favorite underground werewolf. How’s it going, Fuzzy? Your mama still got yah on a short leash, or did you finally gnaw through it?”

Holtz made a jerking motion with her hands. _“I’m surprised you managed to get down here, Jerry, with your back as jacked up as it is. When you heading to the retirement home?”_

“When I finally drop dead on top of you, that’s when.”

_“So tomorrow then?”_

“Hey, Holtz. What’s this sign mean? I forget.” Jerry asked, grabbing his crotch and giving it a shake.

_“Means you’re so desperate for someone to suck it you’re putting up billboard ads.”_

Jerry’s eyes go wide before he burst into heavy laughter, face turning red. “Oh Jesus, I taught you too well. I’m gonna remember that when I head back up. Now get out of the way, I’ve got boxes to unload.”

Holtz stepped around the man and went for a waiting crate, hefting it with ease. She enjoyed heckling the Helpers whenever she could. It was a game they all played. Jerry—the quintessential swarthy New Yorker, complete with thick accent and no-fucks attitude—was the only one who could take the well-meaning abuse and dish it right back out.

“You doing my job for me ain’t gonna bode very well if Mother sees,” Jerry complained when Holtz set the crate down on a sorting table and went for another one.

_“Since when did you start working? Did the city find out how many kinds you’ve fathered?”_

“Ain’t no rugrats of mine anywhere. Started running food for a Chinese place a couple of weeks back. Zou’s. Good food. Their usual runner got himself sick on something nasty, so I’m taking over full time for a bit. Pays not bad.”

_“You get me some fresh wontons, and I’ll tweak the motor on your bike.”_

“That’s a fucking deal. Speaking of Zou’s, can you get word to Mother and let her know I delivered her message.” Jerry laughed at a private memory while the two worked side-by-side unloading. “Man, you should have seen that Topsider. Gave her the fright of her life showing up at her door. You’d think a DA would be a little more distrusting of strange delivery men.”

Holtz staggers and nearly misses the table, struggling to catch the box she narrowly avoided dropping. Judging by the weight and sound within, it was full of eggs. Mouth suddenly very dry, she attempts to maintain her cool while simultaneously fighting the urge to jump the man and demand why, exactly, her mother needed messages delivered to Erin.

 _“What DA?”_ she queries lightly.

“Some broad Mother wanted me to keep an eye on her for some reason. I guess she got too close to the Underground. Hard telling. I just follow orders.”

 _“Where’d you drop the note off at?”_ Holtz tried her best to keep the tremble from her hands and her face vaguely curious.

“Apartment on West 75th Street. Why? You gonna go climb her fire escape and scare her to death?”

It was meant as a joke. Anyone else would have taken it as a joke, and anyone else should have, but the look Holtzmann gave Jerry told a very different story. The man pauses in his next grab for a crate and gives the Undergrounder a good, solid look. “Why you so interested?”

_“Don’t worry about it.”_

That brings him to a stop. “Now wait a minute, Holtz. I don’t want your mother catching me by the dick thinking I sent you Topside with an address to some snooping Topsiders house. I know the rules. She’d kill you then come after me.”

Holtz gave the man a wide grin that showed just a bit too much tooth. _“Nah, she wouldn’t kill me. I’m her favorite and only child. Now you, on the other hand, that’s a bit of a pickle. Don’t worry. This is just between you and me.”_

Unloading her last crate, Holtz sprinted from the square, Jerry’s shouts quickly fading behind her. Mind racing, she was already plotting her course. Upper West Side. That had four tunnel entrances. One close to West 75th. Very close. This could work.

Dwelling empty thanks to Mother having classes with the Cave Kids later that morning, Holtz dove into her room and hastily threw together a travel sack. Trekking through the tunnels to the Upper West Side would take most of the afternoon, and then she’d have to wait. That was the hard part. Waiting for the sun to dip low enough and the shadows to grow long enough Holtz could creep from her hiding place and slip through the masses largely unnoticed.

She’d done this twice before. Both times had been nervous, knee-shaking venture. Sneaking out into Central Park at night and traipsing around was one thing. There weren’t many people in the park at that hour, or if there were, they wanted nothing to do with a figure in dark clothes. Out on the streets, however? That was different. No real cover. No fall back if something went wrong. Too many eyes. Too many bodies. It had been overwhelming for the tunnel rat, but she’d done it to prove a point. She could, if pushed, anonymously pass as a Topsider so long as the shadows were on her side.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holtz....what the fuck are you doing? Do you even know at this point? XD Here we go! Getting these two back together. They've been a part long enough ;)
> 
> Reviews literally help me write faster and let me know how I'm doing. Please and thank you!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Figured I'd mention this here just in case. I mention rape in this chapter. Not the act and no examples given, just the word during a convo between Erin and Patty. And no, no one is confessing this happened to them. I don't use rape in my stories for personal reasons, but there is mention of the word, so I wanna look out for my readers.

If it was one thing Holtzmann was accustomed to it was the dark. Growing up underground virtually meant she’d not seen the sun until her later years, so she and darkness were intimate companions. She knew how to move in it. Knew its dangers and its advantages. Knew how to use her hands and ears and nose to guide her through her treks both Topside and Underground. So it wasn’t any surprise the blonde was able to make quick work of her jaunt to the Upper West Side in almost total darkness, give or take a few lamps along the way.  

Holtz checked her position again with a quick glance at the intersection address painted above the tunnel arch she was about to step through. The oppressive darkness made it hard to pick out details, so thank god whoever scrawled the street junction did it in white.

 _Right on track and right on time,_ she exhaled a puff of steam. Surface tunnels were colder this time of year. _Well, close to on time. Little early. Maybe a lot early. Shit._

It was never easy gauging how long a trip would take. So many variables to consider and obstacles to traverse.

Topside maintenance crews were the bane of Underground existence. More often than not, any sewer or pipeline work kept Topside teams in the upper tunnels well away from the Underground, but in the past, there had been harrowing moments where a worker wandered too far from his company or got too close to a hidden entrance. There was an obvious protocol for a breach. Mother wasn’t about to leave her people defenseless, but there was nothing fun about an emergency evacuation or an Underground lockdown.

Other dangers were nature-made. Flash flooding was the number one killer in the tunnels. Holtz had encountered these seemingly random and terrifying events firsthand more than once. One such incident still haunted her. She’d lost a friend that day, the poor boy wrenched from her slick hands and carried into the darkness never seen again. He washed into the Hudson two days later. No one claimed his body. They couldn’t. So a plaque was made in his memory, but its erection on the Wall did little to stave off Holtz’s waking nightmares. They’d haunted her for a solid year and left her with a fear of fast-moving water.

None of this put a damper on the engineer’s love for exploration, so she stooped, walked, and crawled as carefully as she could through passages she knew like the back of her hand. This was her playground. Her sanctuary. Fat, slender, narrow, dilapidated, the passages all had their own personalities. Holtz liked to think of them like individual people, oftentimes muttering to tunnels as she passed through them. Offering encouragement. Mumbling a curse. Maybe throwing up a prayer when something went wrong. Sometimes just shouting incoherently into the dark just to catch a snippet of what her speaking voice might sound like.  

_Quasi has his bells, and I have my tunnels._

Cutting across a narrow tube and sliding through a maintenance chamber hinting at fresh Topside activity, the blonde spun the wheel on the hatch door and stepped into a subway tunnel after checking the vibrations in the pipes for an oncoming train. Any geographer would tell you the shortest distance between two points was a straight line. Well, the subway provided the largest and ‘safest’ passages anywhere in the city. Though safe was a relative word below the streets.

A half hour and one dodged train later, Holtz stopped at the bottom of a tall shaft and squinted into the streams of light filtering in through the manhole. She’d made it to the Upper West Side in record time, which didn’t bode well for her plan. It was still daylight. No place for someone like her right now unless she wanted to start a panic.

Swatting down, Holtz reached into her pocket and brought out a hastily folded map, spreading it as flat as she could on the bumpy ground. Jamming a flashlight into her teeth, she angled the light beam onto the section of map circled in smudgy red ink. Upper West Side was…well it was pretty damn large. Shit, the whole city was, but Holtz had an inkling of where to start. 75th street. According to her map, there were quite a few apartments on that block. No telling which was Erin’s. She’d have to go look…

Fingers drumming a fast tattoo on her thighs, she juggled her options. Sit and wait. Climb and explore a little. She had her hood. She had her face wrap, and it was cold enough to warrant both. But no. No, she couldn’t do that. Couldn’t risk exposure.

Holtz lasted a whole five minutes before shoving her map back into her pack and jumping for the iron rungs embedded in the stone. To hell with patience. She’d been patient for two weeks. Time to be a little reckless. 

* * *

 

 

Her frosty beer glass was cold against the pads of her fingers and palm, the amber liquid missing most of its foamy head. Erin didn’t make a habit of drinking during the day. Oh, her colleagues at the firm were fond of ‘alcoholic lunches’ and took them often enough. Erin, not so much. Drinking was one thing. She enjoyed the occasional beer or—if she was being completely honest— Friday night bender, depending on the roughness of her week. Maybe she’d spice things up and have a glass of wine when she got home to help her sleep, but since returning Topside her regular routine had been reduced to shit. She woke later—if you can count 9 am late in comparison to her usual 6am—went to bed later, ate seldom, or binged on Thai food and deli sandwiches until her stomach revolted. Alcohol had also become a reoccurring partner, a drink never too far from Erin’s hand.

Today, she was sharing a late lunch with Patty at one of the PI’s favorite bars, sipping a microbrew, and staring darkly at the bar counter. The meal had begun peaceful enough. Strange how quickly the tides could turn, especially with how unbalanced Erin had been feeling since returning home.

“I just think you should mull it over is all I’m saying,” Patty said sucking her teeth. Back against the bar and elbows resting on the polished edge, she watched the hunched brunette out of the corner of her eye. If Erin coiled her shoulders any tighter she’d start a friction fire.

“Not interested,” Erin muttered between sips, wishing for something a little stronger. Her eyes kept drifting to the whiskey bottle in the racks behind the bar.

“You got a good reason why?” the PI shot back over her shoulder.

“I have plenty,” Erin returned with the same amount of barbed precisions. “And I don’t need to share them with someone I’ve only known for two weeks.”

“God, you white girls are some kind of stubborn, you know that? What the fuck is wrong with taking a few classes? Not like you stand to lose anything.”

Erin hastily caps the venom building on her tongue by locking her teeth. This wasn’t Patty’s fault. The PI was trying to help, abrasive though she might be. Erin had been feeling off since coming back from the Underground, like she was a stranger in her own skin. Nothing felt normal. Her apartment. Her clothes. Her routine. Her city. She had a damn bodyguard, for Christ’s sake! Erin knew it would take longer than two weeks to fully reacclimate, but goddamn she just wants to feel reasonably herself again! 

But at the same time, Erin wanted to shout at Patty she had her dignity to lose. Not like there was much of it left after the press got ahold of her, but the shreds she had she clung to. The journalists had done what they always do. Dig and push and demand and wheedle until they sucked all the usable blood from a donor, tapping the vein dry. Then they moved on like the mosquitos they were in search of another juicy story to exploit.

But what did they leave in their aftermath? A rattled woman reminded every time she turned on the TV or picked up a newspaper she was a victim of kidnapping, of assault, of attempted murder. Over and over and over again. Her face. Her shell-shocked expression. Her pain. Her scars spread out for the world to see. Erin felt naked and exposed, and the last thing she wanted was to join a self-defense class where she’d be pacified and coddled while being reminded she was nothing more than a statistic.   

Mood souring beyond salvaging, Erin pushed away from the bar, the stool legs squealing sharply against the linoleum. Digging out a twenty—far more than her beer fare required— she slapped it down on the bar and made for the door. Shoving her arms into her long coat, Erin had just enough time to brace against the shock of winter air whipping down the street when she pushed her way outside.

“Girl, hold up!” Patty called, half out the door. Slowing from her brisk jog, she alighted beside the shorter woman, hands buried deep in her heavy coat pockets. Judging by the cold and gray skies, they were in for snow again. Wonderful. “Look, I don’t know if I overstepped, but I feel like I did, and I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to ruffle your feathers.”

Erin walked in tense silence, eyes on her feet and the sidewalk beneath. It took two blocks for her to thaw enough Patty didn’t feel like she was going to get a second-hand freezer burn.

“I appreciate your concern.”

“But,” Patty prompted, stretching out the word. She was already prepared for what came next. This always happened.

“I’m not some kind of helpless victim.”

“Girl, you _are_ a victim, and that’s okay. What happened to you was awful, but there’s nothing wrong with accepting that it happened and that you’re not okay because of it. Everyone who’s been in your shoes or in similar situations goes through stages like this, and we all kind of deal with it in our own way.”

Erin stopped walking so fast Patty almost overshot her. “Don’t cop-voice me, Patty,” the smaller woman growled, face set in a hard scowl. “If I wanted a cop to lecture me about the effects of victimization, I’d go talk to Detective DeFante. I don’t need to hear it from you.”

Hands planting on her hip, Patty gives the smaller woman a good once-over, mouth pressed in a hard line. “No, what you need to hear is the goddamn truth and not some sugar-coated bullshit about how ‘you won’t be a victim if you don’t treat yourself like one’. Cause boo, I’m gonna pop that bubble real quick. Something bad happened to you. That makes you a victim.”

“ _I’m not_ —“ Erin bites her tongue when her volume reaches critical mass, adjusting her tone and trying again with forced calm. “I’m not like other—“

“Do not,” Patty warned, taking a step closer with her index finger raised and giving the brunette a hard look that made Erin’s scowl look like playdough next to concrete, “finish that sentence. Do not throw other women under the bus just so you can feel superior. This isn’t a pissing contest, Erin. What happened to you is just as bad as a woman getting slapped around by her husband or a woman getting mugged or raped behind a dumpster. You are a victim, but that doesn’t define you as a person. It’s the byproduct of what happened to you, but you don’t get to play the superiority card here. Not with another victim standing right in front of you.”

That certainly hit like a ton of bricks. If Erin’s eyes grew any wider they’d pop out of her head. Patty, on the other hand, leaned back and casually rolled her shoulders, the look on her face reading ‘you really thought you were the only one?’.

“A lot happens when you’re one of the only female cops on the street, Erin. And no, I ain’t talking about sexual assault, so you can unclench.” Erin fractionally relaxed, not realizing she’d been holding her breath.

“Guys don’t like sharing the same space as ‘females’. You know that, and I know that. Lots of comments. Lots of ‘good-natured shoving’. But at the end of the day, it was a ricochet to the hip during a shootout that sealed the deal.” To emphasize, Patty gently patted her right hip. “Ended my career in law enforcement, among other things. And for a long time, I was just like you. I didn’t want to feel like I was a victim. Hated the looks I got from people. I mean, I put myself in that situation and knew the risks. Why the hell couldn’t people treat me with enough dignity not to wince whenever I limped by or offer sympathies or fucking ask what happened? So yeah, I know where you’re coming from, and I'm telling you, the sooner you start accepting the ‘V’ word has become a part of you but doesn’t define you, the faster you’re going to heal from this. Just saying.”   

Awkward silence didn’t even begin to describe what settled between the two. Erin eventually continued down the sidewalk with Patty beside her, but the conversation didn’t begin again until they were more than halfway to Erin’s apartment.

“I know you probably don’t want to hear it, but I am sorry for what happened to you.”

“Was a long time ago, baby. Water under the bridge.”

Erin sighed and leaned against the crosswalk they’d stopped at. Arms crossed, she let the wind play with her hair and fought to ground herself. Her attempt was only mildly successful. “I’m not ready to admit it. Maybe that makes me juvenile. Maybe that makes me stupid, I don’t know. I just…can’t swallow the label.”

“Ain’t a problem you have to tackle right away, but it is something you’re going to have to come to terms with at some point. Which is why I suggested the classes.”

“I don’t think I’m ready for a step like that. I’ve lived in New York most of my life, and I’ve never needed self-defense until now. It’s a weird concept and it makes me feel…kind of ridiculous.”

“There are other ways to help deal with this, but god knows you’re a grown ass woman who can also do this herself. You don’t need your bodyguard making all your calls for you. This isn’t a Swayze movie.” Patty added the last bit with a friendly shoulder bump that got Erin to at least chuckle a bit.

“You’re a real pain in the ass, Patty.”

“Girl, you ain’t seen nothing yet. Just wait. I’m like a fine wine. I get better with age.”

“God, what have I gotten myself into?”

By the time the two made it back to Erin’s apartment the skies had turned slate gray, spitting flurries like a weak sprinkler. Usually, this was where they parted ways, but Patty called Erin over to her Chevy and popped the trunk. Digging around, the PI pulled an object out and handed it to a slightly confused and concerned looking DA.

“Umm…thank you?” Erin said, unsure why she was holding a very worn, very used looking wooden baseball bat. “It’s something I’ve always wanted. How did you know?”

“All right, smartass, dial back the sass,” Patty sniffed, hitching her hip against the bumper of her beat up blue car. “I couldn’t help notice the lack of security in your apartment. And no, a chain lock and a buzz system isn’t security, so don’t even go there.”

Erin quickly snapped her mouth shut, retort capped.

“Since you won’t listen to reason and take a class, I figured this is the next best thing.”

“Oh my god, does that say Rat Killer?” Erin recoiled, holding the bat at arm’s length by the tip when she spotted the painted red lettering.

Patty’s grin went wide. “Hell yes, it does! That thing is my go-to weapon of choice cracking the little vermin when they get into my house.”

“Jesus, is this blood in the seams then?! Patty, what the hell, that’s disgusting!”

“It’s clean! Just stained, okay. Had that bat for years.” Before Erin could object and return her ‘gift’, the taller woman took her hands and positioned them in a chokehold on the handle. “Two handed swing is your best bet for making someone think twice about coming at you. I also find it helps to shout ‘not today, Satan!’ at the top of my lungs before attacking. So there yah go. Little bit of security for yah.”

“Yeah, umm….thank you.”

“Looking out for my best customer.”

“I’m your only client at the moment,” Erin deadpanned.

“All the more reason to make sure you stay alive! Meet you tomorrow, same place as always,” Patty called as she swung into the driver’s seat and slammed the door. A puff of grayish-black smoke and a pop later, the blue Chevy was trundling down the road, leaving Erin standing on the curb with her new security system.

“What has become my life?” the DA moaned, throwing her head back and letting small ice crystals melt on her face.

Feeling ridiculous walking into her apartment—or any apartment for that matter—with a bloodstained baseball bat in her hands, Erin hastily made her way inside and deposited her new ‘weapon’ by the sink until she could find a better home for it.

With a sigh, the brunette shed her long coat and folded her arms atop the island in her kitchen, looking out over her once tidy living room. Most of the floor and couch were strewn with papers, manila folders, and delivery menus. True to his word, Phillip sent a runner with a box of work for Erin while on her forced sabbatical, and true to form, Erin had gotten straight to it. And then stopped half way through, making excuses for the delay but knowing it had less to do with the actual work and everything to do with her state of mind.

_Maybe Phillip had a point about taking time for myself…_

Erin shook off the question before it took root. Instead, figuring there was no point wasting hers or her firms time, she poured herself a glass of wine—despite the beer still fresh in her system— settled in front of the coffee table, and lost herself to busy work for the next few hours, the passage of time only going noticed when her wine bottle ran dry.

Feeling flushed and a little dizzy for all the wrong reasons, Erin figured she’d done enough to warrant a proper meal. Maybe some entertainment too. Luckily, she knew a place where she could retrieve both.  

Heading out alone was still a nerve-wracking experience, but with the wine in her stomach making her a bit less lucid, Erin trekked to her local deli before swinging by a nearby Blockbuster to browse the racks. The cashier merrily sold her a candy, popcorn, and drink bundle, which the brunette happily agreed to purchase. Pocketing her rentals: a strange mix of Pirates of the Caribbean—Erin had been intrigued by the premises and liked Depp enough to give it a try—Love Actually, and X-Men 2—she had a weakness for superheroes in tight leather suits…okay, she had a weakness for Hugh Jackman—she made her way back home and promptly deposited herself on her couch, tearing into her sandwich and putting Pirates in the DVD player. But at about the same time she hit play and settled in, Erin’s brain checked out, the beer, wine, and food making her warm and unrealistically comfortable.

When she was unceremoniously jerked awake with a startled snort sometimes later, the living room was dark, the only light coming from DVD’s menu screen playing in loop. Blinking sleep from her eyes and squinting at the light—a crick pinching in her neck—Erin groaned. The digital clock on the DVD player read 11:36.

“Another wild and crazy night for you, Gilbert. The kids just can’t keep up with you, party animal,” Erin snorted, running a hand through her messy hair.

Flicking off the TV and moving into the kitchen for a glass of water to wash the taste of stale booze from her mouth, the brunette heard a loud metallic clang from outside her apartment and almost choked on her water. Jumping out of habit, she hissed down a curse, willing her heart rate to slow.

“Damn fucking kids on the eighth floor out smoking again,” she growled, already planning her strongly worded letter to the building manager when she turned and felt her heart soar into her throat. Her glass slipped from her fingers, smashing at her feet into thousands of glittering shards.

Someone was crouched on the landing outside her fire escape, hands pressed against the window.

Someone was looking into her home.

Someone was looking to get in.

The world around her dialed into a form of tunnel vision. Blurring at the edges and focusing sharply on the black figure peering into her apartment. Why was this happening?! Why her?! The air left the room. Or did it only leave her lungs? Erin didn’t know. Couldn’t tell. Was sucking in air so fast she might have been preparing to deep-dive. No, she was safe. She was. The window was locked. She’d made sure of it. Locked up tight and…why was the window sliding open?

“Oh god,” Erin wheezed, feeling something in her bowels shift when the person outside slowly started to edge in through the small crack they’d made.

Should she run?

Scream?

Call the police?

Make a break for the door and pray the person didn’t have a—

Something brushed the DA’s searching right hand when she backed into the counter out of reflex. Something solid and familiar despite it being a new addition to her home. Without thinking, Erin’s fingers clamped around the bat to the point her joints burned.    

It happened so fast she felt she was moving at lightspeed. Like a switch being thrown, one second she was quivering by her kitchen sink, falling deeper into crippling panic, and the next she was going full feral and all but jumping the island between her and the intruder. The figure had only just gotten its feet under them when Erin’s bat cracked against the side of its head. It spun and hit the ground with the same absurd motion, wilting like a blade of grass cut by a lawnmower.

Heart slamming like a war drum in her neck, Erin stood over the motionless form on her floor. It took several seconds before she remembered her body actually needed oxygen to live, and she sucked in a breath that started at her toes and ended at the top of her head. Had she actually…?

“Yes!”

The triumphant bellow rips from her lips in a barbaric war cry. Oh god, did she feel good! For once, she felt true power surge through her veins, overshadowing the fear that had once been there, igniting her blood like dry grass beneath a lightning strike.

Belatedly remembering what Patty told her to do when using the bat, Erin scrambled and pointed her weapon at the body, shouting, “Not today, Satan!” like she’d finally speared her white whale. 

“Not fucking today! Not fucking again, you sick, twisted fucks! Oh god, I’m getting dizzy. Breathe, Erin.” Staggering in the fading adrenaline, Erin grabbed her cordless phone and stalked back to the body. When it didn’t move after being kicked with her foot, Erin wedged the end of the bat under the intruder’s left shoulder and began to turn them over, grunting with the effort.

“I hope you’re ready to rot in prison you stupid son of a— _oh my god! Holtzmann?!_ ”

Tripping over herself to turn on the lamp next to the window, Erin stared down in horror at the unconscious and bleeding body of the woman who had saved her life eight weeks ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all knew this was coming. You had to know. But...at least they're back together? Kind of? (wince) These two just can't catch a break! xD
> 
> Reviews literally help me write faster and let me know how I'm doing. Please and thank you!


	15. Chapter 15

Panic. That’s what she felt in the vacuum left behind by shock. Pure and electrifying panic.

Going to her knees, Erin’s hands fly over Holtz but can’t find a suitable place to land. Don’t know where to touch or for how long. Don’t know if the woman was even alive, and that thought had her choking on a strangled inhale that rolled her stomach. She could well have just turned into a murderer.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god.”

Should she touch her? Move her? Try to wake her? Call someone? Maybe Patty. Yes! Patty would know! Patty was a cop once and she’d—

Erin threw the phone away from her like it had grown a head and hissed at her. She couldn’t call anyone. If Patty showed, the PI would likely shoot the Undergrounder, and then there would be questions. So many questions. Calling the paramedics would end about as poorly, only Holtz would be carted off to a hospital, and Erin wouldn’t even let herself complete that thought. It was a solid thirty seconds of shaking and swearing and pacing before Erin’s chaotic mind finally found traction and kicked into gear. She was a DA. She could figure this out.

Vital signs. Erin needed to check those first. Did she even remember her first aid training? It had been years since she’d attended a class.

Carefully removing Holtzmann’s hood and the scarf hanging haphazardly from her neck, Erin whimpered at the sight of bright blood matting the left side of woman’s head, soaking into her blonde hair and starting to make its way down onto her face.

“How hard did I hit you?!” It was a redundant question. Hard enough to knock out a fully grown woman and apparently make her bleed.

Gently moving Holtz’s head to the side—avoiding the scalp laceration—Erin sought and found the pulse point in the Undergrounder’s neck. Paused there. Waited a full ten seconds before releasing an exhale close to a sob when a steady pulse fluttered against her fingers.

“Not dead. Unconscious and bleeding, but not dead…yep.” Nausea crept into her stomach the longer she stared at the patch of blood in Holtzmann’s hair, forcing her to swallow several times or risk getting sick. “Ho god, what the fuck am I going to do?”

Another wave of panic hit, stronger than the last. Erin rocked back on her heels and scrubbed at her head, out of her depth and still trying to calm down from the fact she’d attacked an intruder in her home with a bat. She’d never been a violent person. Ever. It just wasn’t her natures, and not for the first time Erin began to realize something about herself had changed since that night in the van. Because the old her would have run screaming. This new Erin had attacked…the juxtaposition was unsettling.

Taking advantage of the knowledge she hadn’t killed Holtz, Erin allowing herself to think and compartmentalize. If she couldn’t call the paramedics and she couldn’t call Patty that left only one—

“The delivery guy!”

The sudden thought popped into her head like a starburst, driving her to her feet like a manic jack-in-the-box. The man from Zous who’d passed her Mother’s message. He was connected with the Underground. Surely he would know what to do with Holtz or how to help. At least, that’s what Erin prayed was going to happen. Scrambling for the phone, her fingers clumsily dial the familiar number, a prayer muttered under her breath for someone to answer.

“Zous,” a gruff voice picks up after five agonizing rings.

“Hi! Yes, um, hello, good evening, I would—I would like to place an order—“

“We’re closed. Call back tomorrow.”

“No, wait!” Erin all but shouts into the receiver, fingers going white as she grips the phone. She had to calm down. Had to breathe. “I know you all are closing up, and I’m so sorry. Please, I…I just need to place an order. It’s Miss. Gilbert. I’ve done business with you all for years. It was a late night at the office. Please.”

 _God, Erin,_ she thinks, almost smacking her own forehead, _you’re a DA and that’s the best lie you can come up with? They should take your license from you._

“Food’s been put up for the night,” the speaker rumbles, clearly ready to be done with the conversation.

“I’ll pay double.”

Silence from the other line and Erin can practically feel the wheels in the Zous employee—likely the head cook—turning. Again there’s a pause, and Erin can practically feel the seconds slipping by.

“I’m not firing up the stove for a small order,” the employee grumbles, sounding like he’s chewing on something sticky.

“Of course! Double my usual order and throw in an order of tom yum goong and spring rolls.”

The speaker sighs in exasperation like someone pinching the bridge of their nose but eventually relents. “Usually I’d tell you you’re shit out of luck, but you do tip well and the ovens are still warm. All right. I’ll take the order, but only this once! Don’t make this a habit.”

Erin’s nodding despite knowing the speaker can’t see her. “Of course! Sorry again for the inconvenience. Oh! Also, sorry, um, can you send the runner you sent with my last order? Not Benny but the other guy?”

“Jerry?” the voice queried, sounding surprised. “He’s the only runner I’ve got right now.”

“Jerry, yes, that would be wonderful. I forgot to tip him last time. Thank you again!”

“Yeah, sure. Be there in thirty minutes.”

Erin hangs up and allows herself another gusty exhale while scrubbing at her face before launching into the next phase of ‘making sure she didn’t kill her Underground friend’. 

Holtzmann needed to get off the floor. Aside from laying directly on Erin’s work and likely bleeding on pieces of it—wouldn’t that be a fun conversation with Phillip—Erin knew she needed to get the woman to a more comfortable place. The couch was the best alternative since Erin’s bedroom was down the hall. Easier said than done when working with the solid, dead weight of a limp, fully-grown adult.

Erin circled around Holtz to stand with her feet on either side of her head and slipped her hands into the hinges of the blonde’s armpits.

“God,” she grunts with the effort of standing. “What are you made of, pure muscle? What does your mother feed you?”

Oh…that was a particularly sharp spike of dread. If Holtzmann’s mother found out Erin had clipped her daughter in the head with a bat?

“Jesus, I’m so fucked.”

Step, drag, step, drag, step, drag.

It took Erin an embarrassingly long time to haul the unconscious woman the short distance to her couch and even longer to _lift_ her onto it. By the time she was finished, the brunette was panting, starting to sweat, and realizing she desperately needed to join a gym. Holtz hadn’t come round, and Erin didn’t know what to make of that. Head injuries, or injuries of any kind, were out of her area of expertise.

Snagging a rag from a kitchen drawer and wetting it with warm water, Erin returned to the couch. It struck her—as she knelt beside Holtz—that this was likely what the Undergrounder had done for her all those weeks ago. The thought gave her pause and made something shift in her chest. Her concerned frown smooths and lifts, replaced with an expression close to regret. Had Holtzmann knelt beside her and cleaned the blood from her face? Had she been this worried? It both warmed and confused Erin to think Holtzmann risked the safety of her people and the ire of her mother just to save the life of a Topside stranger.

Guilt has Erin biting her bottom lip and sighing heavily through her nose. “And I repay your kindness by disappearing for two weeks and then hitting you in the head with a bat. I am, officially, and asshole. I’m so sorry, Holtzmann.”

Erin’s tender as she clears the blood away from the side of the woman’s head, careful not to directly touch the wound. Her hands shake a little as she leans in close and threads them through her blonde locks, moving them aside to better see the damage.

It was hard to believe the face she was looking down at had cause her so much fear in the beginning. Erin felt a flush of embarrassment creep into her cheeks thinking back on their first few encounters. Looking at Holtz now, there was nothing frightening about her. Yes, she was unconventional and a little strange, but the skin under Erin’s fingers was soft and warm, the strange shapes of her nose and brow giving her a youthful appearance under the lupine accents. Holtzmann smelled like motor oil and something organically spicy like cinnamon and oranges or some other concoction of cologne. Her hair was soft and fragrant and framed her face like a halo in certain lights.     

She was beautiful in the way a Jackson Pollock painting was beautiful. Beautiful in her strange uniqueness.

Three sharp knocks snap Erin out of her reflection, making her jump and nearly topple over the couch as she rushes the door. A quick look through the peephole confirms the man standing on the other side was the man who gave her Mother’s note.

“Late night delivery from—Jesus, what the fuck?!”

Jerry—if Erin remembered correctly—half-stumbles, half-falls into the DA’s apartment when she throws open the door and drags him inside by the front of his shirt. He stops just shy of the kitchen island, catching his balance in a series of staggering steps and rounding on Erin.

“You picked the wrong asshole to fuck with, lady,” Jerry snarls, dropping his sacks of food and putting up his fists. “Don’t care what’s between your legs, I’ll smack—“

“I hit Holtzmann in the head with a bat!” Erin shouts her confession, putting her back to the door and leaning heavily against it like she was trying to keep the world from crashing in through it.  

Jerry freezes. Squints. Drops his hands and takes a step back so he can actually look at Erin. “You wanna run that by me again.”

Erin takes a breath and the floodgates open. “I didn’t know who else to call! You’re a Helper, right? I thought she was a bugler! I panicked! I—I picked up a bat and swung it at her, but I didn’t know it was her, and now she’s bleeding and unconscious on my couch, and I didn’t know who else to call! You gave me Mother’s note, so I—“

“You hit someone in the head with a bat?” Jerry parrots back, catching tidbits of what Erin was saying on account her mouth was moving a mile a minute.

“Yes! I hit Holtzmann!” Erin almost explodes, quickly reaching the frayed ends of her forced calm. “Thank you for keeping up with the conversation!”

“Wait, wait, wait. Backup. How the hell do you even know I’m a Helper?” Jerry fires back, immediately going on the defensive and visibly bristling. “You ain’t a Helper, and I know most of them.”

“Because I know about the Underground.”

“How?”

“Hi, hello,” Erin chirps with a closed-mouth grin and a clipped wave dripping with sarcasm. “I’m the Topsider Holtzmann brought into the Underground, and I’m the same woman who just _hit her in the head with a bat!_ ”

“Jesus, I knew there was something off about you when I gave you Mother’s letter! Why’d you go and take a swing at Holtz?” Jerry makes a disgusted, disbelieving face. “She wouldn’t hurt a fly!”

Erin’s jaw should have made an audible sound when it hit the floor between her feet. “Have you not heard a word I’ve said!? She crawled through my window! At night! Dressed in back! Who the hell crawls through an apartment window from the fire escape?!”

Too busy with her tirade, Erin misses the hard wince and recoil Jerry tries his best to cover. “Fuck, okay, calm down,” he grunts, rubbing the back of his head. “Where is she?”

“ _One. The. Couch_.” Erin punctuates each word by pointing with both arms to the couch behind Jerry.

“Right. Damn. Just, calm down before you pop a vein.” Jerry approaches the couch and kneels down beside Holtzmann. Erin can’t read his expression but guesses it's nothing good by the firm set of his lips. After a beat, he rises and plants his hands on his hips. “I ain’t got a fucking clue what to do.”

If Erin still had the bat she’d likely take a swing just to make herself feel better. “Explain yourself. Please.”

“You think I’m some kind of doctor or something? I deliver food for a living right now and repair hydraulic equipment on the side, lady. I don’t know the first damn thing about stitching people up aside from the fact that you shouldn’t be swinging bats at ‘em if you don’t want ‘em to start bleeding.”

“She broke into my apartment!”

“Your fault for not locking your windows.”

“Oh my _god_ ,” Erin groaned into her hands. It felt like she was talking to a brick wall. Was this what it felt like before someone committed an act of premeditated murder? If so, she could certainly sympathize.

“Man, you should think twice before messing up people’s perfectly good evenings,” Jerry complains, continuing his own form of gripping. “First you beam Holtz then you call me. This call cost me, I hope you know. The boss thinks there’s something weird going on between us because you asked for me by name. You know how long I’ve been trying to hook up with his daughter? Sweet little thing. Cooks like a dream, and here you come making it seem like I’ve got a girl—“

Jerry’s suddenly pulled to a stop when Erin grabs him by the shirt collar and pushes him against the wall hard enough to drive the breath out of him. Desperation was very quickly turning to anger in her system, and that was a bad mix.

“I. Do. Not. Care! Stop talking and go find someone who can help or get the hell out of my apartment! Those are your options!”

“Don’t threaten me, lady,” Jerry spits, going nose to nose with the visibly shaking DA. “You ain’t got the balls to back it up.”

“Say that again and I’ll—“

The two stop dead when the body on the couch groans and shifts. If Erin whipped around any faster she’d suffer whiplash and require a brace.

Holtzmann seemed to be coming to in groggy fits and starts. It took her a moment to reorient herself—shifting as consciousness gradually buoys her back into the land of the living— but coincidentally winds up shifting too far and tipping off the edge of the couch with a pitiful groan when she reconnects with the floor face first.

The blonde sits up in a rush with all the cognitive grace of someone just getting their sea legs, swaying as she does. Her wooziness morphs into confusion when she touches the side of her head and her hand comes away speckled in red. She mouths an ‘ow’ that neither Erin or Jerry need translation for.

“Holtz?” Erin ventures, moving slowly towards her in case sudden movements started the Undergrounder. “Are you okay?”

Holtzmann’s eyes lazily drift to up to meet the brunette, growing as big as her toothy smile when she realizes who called her name. _Hey Erin,_ she says through their mental link, stretching out the words with a slur at the end. _I was just coming to see you. Ow. Think something…hit me._

“Jesus, Fuzzy, you okay?” Jerry asks with a wave, stepping beside Erin.

 _“Jerry?”_ the engineer clumsily signs, squinting at the Helper. _“Why are…?”_

“Coming to rescue you from the crazy, bat-swinging Topsiders. She got you good in the old noggin.” He raps his knuckles against his skull for emphasis, and if looks could kill, Jerry would have been dead ten minutes ago.

A goofy smile splits the confusion on Holtz’s face. _“Did what you said. Found the fire escape and climbed it. Who had a bat? I’m not a piñata”_

“You weren’t supposed to take me seriously, Holtz!”

“It was you!” Erin accused, not needing a translator to understand Jerry had just been ratted out.

The Helper spins, hands raised in mock surrender. “I didn’t tell her to climb through your window!”

 _“Yeah-huh.”_ Holtz nods and signs.

“Oh my god,” Erin pinched the bridge of her nose, using her hands to express as she spoke because she'd reached the point of accurately expressing her mortification through words alone. “Who tells someone to climb through a New York window? What if I had a gun?”

“Then Mother would kill you and then me, so nothing would really matter at that point.”

At the mention of her mother, Holtz stiffens, her face dramatically paling. _Erin…please don’t tell Mother I—_ Whatever came next is lost when her eye’s roll and she hits the floor again.

“Shit!” came the simultaneous eruption from both parties.

“You have to know someone who can help! There are doctors in the Underground, right? Someone patched me up!” Erin hurriedly explained, dropping next to Holtz and take her head in her hands. She didn’t appear to be bleeding anymore, but her skin was pale and clammy.

Tongue loaded with something that might have gotten him smacked, Jerry sudden drew back, an idea dawning like a slow sunrise. Like death was dogging his heels, he sprints for the door. “I know who might be able to help!”

“Wait!”

“What?” Jerry stopped by clinging to the doorframe and poking his head back in. “You called me here to help and I am. What do you—“

Erin was making frantic gestures that would have looked at home on an airport runway. “Help me…get her to my bed.”

The man immediately looked suspicious, crossing his arms and filling the doorway with his body. “Got a reason for her to be in there?”

For a solid ten seconds, Erin can only stare.

“Yes, actually,” she forces out, drawing on the last reserves of her patience and putting on a brittle smile. “I was thinking of having my way with an unconscious woman while the idiot delivery boy stands and gawks in the corner… _what the fuck do you think I’m going to do, you hopeless idiot? Oh my god, men are useless!_ ”

“Jesus, all you had to do was offer an explanation.”

If Erin was religious she would have prayed for the man’s stupidity. She wasn’t, so there was no hope. “My floor is dirty. Holtz has a head wound. I’d like to clean it. My couch is also uncomfortable. My bed is more comfortable. Do I need to draw you a picture to help illustrate what I’m trying to do here?”

Face set in a sour scowl because, yeah, he should have guessed that, Jerry does as he’s told. Unlike Erin, he was able to carefully lift and carry Holtz to the brunette’s room with little trouble, depositing her on the bed before leaving with mumbled instructions he’d be back with someone as soon as possible.

Wilting on the edge of the bed after hearing the door click shut, Erin tried to catch her breath but couldn’t manage it. There was too much stimulation circling around her she felt like she was in the spin cycle of a washing machine.

“If I caused you this much trouble when you brought me Underground, I’m so, so sorry,” Erin groaned, glancing at the unconscious Undergrounder taking up one-half of her king sized bed. Holtz didn’t answer or stir, so Erin did the only thing she could. She fetched a wet washcloth from the bathroom, set it on Holtz’s head, crawled up beside her, and watched her chest rise and fall, counting the moments until Jerry came back with help and trying to sort out why seeing the Ungergrounder—even in circumstances like this—made her feel a sliver of normalcy wedge itself in her two weeks of chaos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, Jerry's an idiot, Erin's about to have an aneurysm, and Holtz doesn't know what's happening on account she's not conscious. Fun time! XD At least help is on the way!
> 
> Gotta apologize for this chapter. I've been writing it between studying for finals and I'm kind of all over the place. Hopefully after next Wednesday things will even out and I'll be back up to my old shit again. Until then, enjoy Erin's new best friend xD
> 
> Reviews literally help me write faster and let me know how I'm doing. Please and thank you.


	16. Chapter 16

Her second attempt at coming back to consciousness was more successful than her first, though leagues more painful. Holtz’s head throbbed like her skill was a pipe and someone was beating a frantic message on it. Even with her eyes closed, the throb was intense. Opening them just elevated the pound into an all-out assault on her visual senses to the point if she didn’t close her eyes she’d likely vomit or pass out again. Or both. Both was likely.

Head injuries were so much fun.

Content on simply lying still, the Undergrounder allowed her other senses to absorb the information her eyes couldn’t obtain. One: she wasn’t lying on a couch. The plush comfort under her hands felt decidedly different than the stiff cushions she’d first woken up on. Two: the pillow her head rested on smelled familiar. Irritatingly familiar and also calming. Three: there was something warm to her right and every other second a puff of air would brush against her—

Holtzmann’s eyes snapped open like she’d been stung. Though it made the pain worse, she turned her head ever so slightly to the right and had to bear down on her back molars to keep from jumping out of shock.

Erin lay beside her, close enough if Holtz turned her head completely they would be nose-to-nose. The DA appeared to be sleeping—curled on her side like a cat. It was hard to say whether or not she’d fallen asleep in that position or rolled there. Either way, Holtzmann was finding it hard to wrestle her pulse into a manageable tempo that didn't keep repeating: you’re in Erin’s bed; you’re in Erin’s bed; you’re in Erin’s bed!

What should she do? What _could_ she do? She was in Erin’s bed, and the Topsider was asleep beside her. Obviously, time had passed because it wasn’t night anymore. Light streamed in through the parted curtains across the room, rays of sun falling across Erin’s sleeping form and turning her hair into an auburn halo, highlighting what looked like faint freckles dusting the bridge of her nose—

Holtz rolled onto her back, sweat percolating along her hairline. Oh no. She couldn’t do this. She needed to leave. No idea how she was going to go about doing that—and hadn’t this been her end-game anyway? Seeing Erin?—but it was all she could think about. Leave. Just leave. Pretend this whole thing didn’t happen and maybe try again in another life.

Yep. Foolproof.

Gently, so as to not depress the mattress and alert the sleeping woman to her exit, Holtz slid out of bed and managed to get her feet on the floor without much trouble. Okay, phase one accomplished. Now all she had to do was stand.

Yeah, that was a stupid idea.

No sooner had she straightened her legs and taken a step forward the world tilted dangerously to one side, sending the Undergrounder toppling into the dresser beside her. She caught herself before hitting the floor, but it made an awful racket. Well, she suspected it did. Holtz’s head was too foggy to really comprehend what all was going on around her. Had Erin woken up? Not sure. Probably, but checking required looking behind her, and Holtz didn’t think she could do that without losing her balance.

Forward it was then because smart people apparently tried to stumble out of apartments they’d broken into with a head injury. Yep.

Holtzmann made it to the bedroom door before her treacherous feet tangled, and she was once again falling. Funny how gravity seemed to work in slow motion when the world was tilting on its axis. Wait…why hadn’t she hit the ground? Confused, she lifted her head and belatedly realized the buzzing she’d been hearing was someone calling her name. Erin. Erin was calling her name, and Erin had ahold of her, bearing her weight in an awkward tangle of limbs that had the both of them precariously positioned like dancers making up a house of cards.

“Holtzmann! Can you hear me? Nod if you can.”

Holtz blearily raised and lowered her head, the motion curdling her stomach.

“Okay, okay good. Um…you need to lie down. I’ve got you. Just lean on me. Come on, I know you’re stronger than you look.”

Step by careful step, Erin helped the befuddled woman stumble back to her bed where she sat heavily on the edge before collapsing sideways into the pillows.

“Stay there,” Erin squeaked, holding out her hands to forestall the blonde from rising again. Judging by how pale she was, that wasn’t going to be a problem. At least, until the paleness turned into a green hue, and Erin was rushing for a wastebasket and shoving it under Holtz just in time to prevent a splash of vomit from hitting her floor.

“Oh god, this isn’t good. Oh god.” Frantic, Erin scrambled out of the room, returning seconds later with an ice pack, a bottle of Aspirin, and a tall glass of water. “Here, you need to take something. No, not all at once. Slowly.”

It was like feeding a child. Erin helped Holtz sit up and swallow the pills, urging her to drink as much water as possible before she slumped back down with a pitiful groan. Only the icepack eased the pained pinch of her face.  

Time slipped in and out in rhythm with her consciousness. Holtz remembers snippets, like moments caught in strobe lights, but Erin’s always there. Always close. Always talking to her. Sometimes touching, sometimes not. The icepack was changed out at least once, and when the medicine finally hits her bloodstream, the blonde can at least exhale the pressure building in her skull like an overinflated balloon.

When she finally comes to for the third time, Erin’s seated beside her with a book in her lap. Blinking against the harsh light sending lances of pain into her eyes, Holtz steals a moment of quiet observation she knew she didn’t deserve. The DA had her thumbnail caught between her teeth, worrying it as her eyes darted over the page. When the brunette looked up after a half dozen pages—out of habit now to check on Holtzmann—her face breaks into a relieved smile that doesn’t completely chase away the worry from her brow.

“Hey,” she said gently, setting aside her book. “Welcome back. How are you feeling?”

 _Zantastic,_ Holtz wanly reciprocates Erin's smile, squinting as she does. The DA picked up on this and hurriedly closed her blinds.

“Sorry.”

 _Don’t worry about it. I…um…_ Well, here she was with nothing to say. Wonderful. _Hi._

“Hi yourself.” Erin circled around so she was sitting directly beside Holtzmann, retrieving another fresh icepack and exchanging it out. “It’s good to see you again…though we have to stop meeting under these circumstances. One of us can’t end up bleeding every time the other comes around.”

 _I don’t know. I kind of like the element of danger,_ Holtz teased, feeling her nervousness starting to show in the twitch of her fingers.

“Sweetie,” Erin sighed, brushing back curly strands of Holtz’s unkempt hair so she could examine the lump on the side of her head like she knew what the hell she was looking for. “Why on earth were you crawling through my window in the dead of night? Do you have a death wish?”

Holtz looked away, using a wince of pain to cover her embarrassed cough. _I was…worried about you,_ she ventured with cautious hesitance, keeping her eyes closed. _I wanted to make sure you were okay._

Erin couldn’t find it in herself to be even remotely mad. Not when Holtz was laying prone on her bed and looked as dejectedly embarrassed as she felt for hitting the woman with a bat. And she’d been worried about her? Erin wasn’t sure why that idea spread warmth through her limbs like a flower kicking into bloom.

“You were worried about me?” The question came out small, almost timid.

 _Well, yeah. I mean, after everything that happened…_ Holtz made a grasping motion with her hands, finding it difficult to seek out the words she needed to explain her motives for effectively scaring the shit out of Erin. Nothing came, and it occurred to her she might have just come across as overbearing. And didn’t that set off a domino effect of panic in the younger woman.

_I didn’t mean to imply you had to come back or anything! Or even keep in contact. That’s not what I meant. I’m sorry. I was just…the men who came after you…I didn’t know if they—you were scared when you left to I—I…I’m going to shut up now._

This time, the stretch of Erin’s smile made her cheeks ache. It was a strange feeling having someone care. Not that the DA didn’t have people in her life who did that…just not as many as she probably should have. And none to memory who would risk being mistaken for a bugler just to check up on her. It was actually very sweet.

“I’m really sorry I hit you with a bat,” Erin deflated, her turn to flush with embarrassment.  

 _Should have expected it. Didn’t really…think my plan through. Impulsive to a fault,_ Holtz chuckled, gently tapping her forehead, _that’s me._

Neither could honestly deny it, so instead, they fell into a charged kind of silence.

 _You know,_ the Undergrounder ventured, attempting not to pick at her cuticles, _you should have gone into medicine. You’ve got a very gentle touch._

“Yeah,” Erin snorted, rolling her eyes and coming back to herself. “Gentle enough I gave you a concussion.”

_Again, my fault, but I’m feeling much better thanks to your ministrations._

Why did the blonde’s grin after the word make Erin swallow and look down, a nervous giggle not far from her lips? “I don’t have the faintest idea what I’m doing,” she admitted. “Fixing injuries isn’t really my forte. I’m the law that comes after something like that.”

 _So far so good._ Holtz lifted a hand and began ticking off points. _You’ve kept me in bed—_

“To the best of my ability,” Erin interjected. “You did try to run away when you first woke up.”

Holtz pretended she didn’t remember and moved on. _You got me medicine to help reduce the swelling. Applied a cold compress. Gave me water. Yep, you are well on your way to getting your medical degree._ She put a hand against her chest and sniffed dramatically, thumbing away a fake tear. _I’m so proud._

Erin made a face at the playful jab, refraining from slapping the Undergrounder. “So I take it from the list you just rattled off you know a thing or two about head injuries? Care to share with the class, or do you like watching me fumble?”

 _I’m more than certain you rarely fumble with those hands of yours._ Fuck! Holtz almost smacked herself. This wasn’t a time for flirting! Hell, this wasn’t even the person to flirt with! To her surprise—and maybe dismay?—Erin flushed along the column of her neck.

 _Don’t let me sleep anymore,_ Holtz hurriedly instructed, attempting to come across clinically aloof but only perpetuating her awkwardness. _Keep me awake. Oh! We can tell stories! I’ll go first. There once was a man from Nantucket—_

“Oh my god, stop, you goober,” Erin laughed, putting a finger against Holtz’s lips despite no sound having come from them and ignoring the crackle that raced up her arm at the contact. “I have a TV. And a DVD player. And DVDs. Why don’t we start there? Plus, I’m not sure when your friend Jerry is coming back.”

 _Ah, that’s right,_  Holtz mused. _Jerry was here._

Erin made a face somewhere close to ‘I don’t agree with your friends, but I can’t say shit about it’. “He’s…ah, umm…”

 _A special kind of stupid?_ Holtz offered, carefully pushing herself into an upright position. Her head didn’t pound nearly as badly as it had, but a heavy ache still lingered and flared into something sharper if she moved too fast.

“That’s a nicer way of putting it, yes.”

_Yep, so what this about a DVD player? Big spender! We only have VHS in the Underground. I can safely say you’ve made me jealous._

“It was a gift from a friend,” Erin waved the comment away, helping the blonde slowly sit up. “Are you hungry? It is okay to eat with a head injury. I’m deferring to you from now on.”

 _Hungry, yes. Food, good. This little tunnel rat needs sustenance or she just might shrivel up and die,_ Holtz grinned, leaning on Erin and allowing the older woman to guide her back into the living room. Funny how in just a short amount of time the roles had been reversed. _Hey, weird question, but did you scream ‘Not today Satan’ after hitting me?_

Erin, for her part, was an excellent liar when the mood struck. This was not one of those times. “What? Um, no! No, that was the TV. Why would I say something like that?” _So smooth, Gilbert. You are the queen of deflection,_ she thought to herself.

Gently lowering Holtzmann onto the couch, Erin retrieved the Thai food Jerry delivered the previous night and reheated it in the microwave.

While Erin worked to prepare a quick meal, Holtz took the opportunity to actually take in her surroundings. The apartment was small—kitchen by the door, living room, bathroom, master bedroom— and not really lived in. Judging by the lack of décor and personal touches, Erin only used the place for eating, sleeping, and showering. It was kind of sad, actually. Did she live at her job?

 _I expected you to live someplace…bigger. And with more books or something,_ Holtz commented offhandedly, patting a fast tempo on her knees with her hands. _What with you being a DA and all._

“This was the first apartment I got right out of grad school,” Erin explained from the kitchen. “First one I bought and paid for on my own, so I kind of grew fond of it. And there’s not a snowball's chance in hell you’ll catch me hauling law books back and forth from my job.”

 _It’s nice,_ the blonde smiled over the back of the couch, giving her another toothy grin. _Cozy._

“Says the woman who lives underground.”

_Touché._

Something donned on Holtzmann as she sat looking around that brought her to unsteady feet. In a slow shuffle, she walked to a window facing the street—ignoring the pain the bright light caused her sensitive eyes—braced her hands on the frame, and felt her breath catch.

For the first time in thirty-two years, she was looking down at a city she’d never before seen in the light of day.

It wasn’t like Holtz was overlooking Central Park from a high rise or gaping at the expense of her city from the Empire State Building. This was just Erin’s block from eight stories up, but Holtz had never seen New York in the light of day or from any height, for that matter. Her life was spent subterranean. Always looking up. Always dreaming what the city looked like from above.

New York was a living, breathing beast. Holtz knew this. She’d played in its organs since learning to walk, but this? This was seeing the beautiful, industrial pelt of that same creature for the first time. The cars. The people. All milling around, going about their lives unaware how lucky they were. How free. An old, pestering ache settled in the blonde’s chest, squeezing her lungs and solidifying a ball in the back of her throat. What she wouldn’t give to be just like the Topsiders for one day. Just one day.

But no. That wasn’t to be, and she stamped down the longing with a firm mental kick, rubbing away the moisture gathering in her eyes with the heel of her palm.

“Holtz?” Apparently, she wasn’t that good at hiding such a powerful flare of emotion. That or Erin was extremely good at reading people. Likely both. “Hey, are you okay?”

 _Just light sensitive,_ she said, thankful she had no voice because it would have probably cracked. _That food smells awesome._

Erin gave the blonde a scrutinizing look but didn’t pry, instead placing the plates of food and glasses of water on her coffee table. “It’s from Zous where Jerry works. That’s…kind of how I got him here last night.”

 _How did you know he was a Helper?_ Holtz wondered, cocking her head to one side.

“He delivered your mother’s message.”

Erin didn’t expect Holtz to go as still as she did, nor did she expect to see her usually smiling face fall into a serious frown. _My mother sent you a message?_

“I thought you knew,” Erin deflected, confusion creasing her brow.

_No. What did she tell you?_

“It’s fine, Holtz. I imagine she was just being herself.”

_Erin, what did my mother say to you?_

The brunette felt goosebumps race down her spine when her eyes lifted and alighted on Holtzmann. It was like she was looking at a different person. Hair wild around her head and tinted with rust on one side, the Undergrounder held herself with a coiled kind of posture that reminded Erin of an animal standing with its hackles raised. The burn in Holtzmann’s eyes looked like two lit blue coals, and Erin wouldn’t be lying had she said this Holtz _did_ frighten her.

“Just your typical ‘I’ll be watching you’ kind of message. I figured it was normal, though I’m not really keen on being stalked back to my home.”

It looked like Holtz’s mouth was trying to form words-- ones she wisely kept to herself--not sharing them across her and Erin’s mental connection. Turning away, the blonde stood in silence, opening and closing her hands for a time before she seemed to calm enough to articulate again.

_I’m sorry she did that. She had no right._

“Like I said, I figured it was just her being herself. She seemed very adamant I not reveal your existence to the world, a wish I’ve done my best to uphold.”

_For my people’s sake, thank you, but she shouldn’t have had to threaten you in order to make sure you kept our secret._

“Why…” Erin hesitated, unsure this was the right time to broach this topic. “Why are you all down there, anyway? I don’t mean to sound judgmental. I’m not trying to be, but why there? Why under New York living in the sewers?”

Holtzmann lowered her head, still coiled tight but not as tightly or angrily. It was clear by the set of her body Erin’s questions weren’t entirely wanted. _Mother has her reasons, and she’s not shared them with anyone. All I know is it had something to do with her past, but what that is she won’t say._

“And those people? Were they part of her past?”

_No. Most of the Undergrounders are people who can’t live Topside anymore. Homeless. Family-less. Friendless. They’re the rejects of the Topside who just need a community to help support them. Like me._

Erin felt her heart clench and berated herself for continuing down this avenue of conversation. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”

 _Not bad,_ Holtz gave the woman a wan smile when she turned back around and took her seat on the couch. _I know I wouldn’t fit in up here. My own mother didn’t want me. Mother found me during a Topside trek when she still did them. I was left to die in a dumpster because…_ the blonde motioned at her face, not needing to elaborate. _But Mother found me and took me in. She raised me not to be ashamed of how I look._

“She did a good thing teaching you that,” Erin said quietly, turning herself so she was facing the blonde. She briefly fought the urge to take Holtzmann’s hands in hers, feeling it was far too intimate for two people who barely knew each other. “Because there is nothing wrong with how you look.”

Holtz blushed a bit and offered another closed-lipped smile before she became serious once again. _Mother is extremely protective over the Underground. Over me. But that doesn’t give her the right to threaten someone whom I trust enough to keep our secret without threats._

“Thank you,” Erin offered, bobbing her head. “That means a lot coming from someone I’ve started to trust too.”

If Holtzmann smiled any bigger her mouth would split at the edges.

“Um…we should eat before the food gets cold…again.”

Holtz had to agree and practically tore into her food once settled, hungrier than she realized she’d previous been. Erin watched her shovel rice and noodles into her mouth like it was an eating competition, and oh, it was a sight.

 _What? It’s good!_ she said after catching Erin staring, mouth stuffed with food. The brunette snorted back a laugh, noticing a stray noodle stuck to the Undergrounder’s upper lip like a thin, pale mustache.

“You just have a healthy appetite.”

_You should see me demolish a pizza. Like a lion on a zebra._

“Thank you for that mental image.”

Holtz gave her a grin that showed off her elongated canines, bits of food stuck to them. _You said something about DVDs earlier?_

Erin pointed with her fork at the armrest next to Holtz and almost jumped out of her skin when the Underground actually verbally _squealed_  in delight.

 _You have X-Men 2?! I didn’t even know it was out yet!_ Holtz started bouncing in place, vibrating as she turned the DVD case over to read the synopsis. _Can we watch that? Is that okay? Please? I’ll beg if I have to!_

Shaking her head and properly laughing, Erin popped the movie into the player. Food forgotten in lieu of superheroes, Holtz snuggled back into the cushions, knees drawn up to her chest, looking years younger than she actually was, the anger Erin had seen a distant memory.

Shoulder to shoulder, the two fell into comfortable silence watching the mutant drama play out on screen—Holtzmann squeaking and commenting every now and then about random mutant powers or places where the movie directors had gotten something wrong. About midway through the film, they were disturbed by a knock at Erin’s door.

“I’ll get it,” the brunette said, rising quickly. Without glancing through the peephole, she slid back the chain lock and was greeted with a jarring sight.

“So tell me. Which one of you do I kill first, you or Holtzmann? Or is this a double murder?”

“Abby?” Erin drew back. Across the room, Holtz peaked over the back of the couch like a child caught with their hands in the cookie jar, eyes barely making it over the lip of the cushions.

_Hey, Abby…_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back together again and being massive dorks. God, I love these two.
> 
> Reviews literally help me write faster and let me know how I'm doing. Please and thank you!


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so, so sorry you all for not updating according to my previous schedule. Here we go though. Long awaited update.

“Don’t you ‘hey Abby’ me,” the blind woman snapped from the doorway, moving inside before Erin could gather her wits and slam the door in her face. 

“What are you doing here?” she asked instead, blinking several times to clear the haze of shock. Abby…was standing in her apartment. The blind Undergrounder …here…in her apartment… _How?_

“God, you know, I was just feeling like taking a walk Topside and decided I’d check in on an old patient of mine. Just to see how you were doing,” Abby piped up conversationally, voice dripping with sarcasm as she shrugged off a threadbare coat. “Oh, and have you possibly seen a runaway tunnel rat? Holtz went missing yesterday, you see, and I seem to remember she had this thing about coming and seeing you…Oh, look at that!” Abby gestured to the couch enthusiastically. Erin didn’t know how she knew Holtz was seated there, but the blonde sank down further. “There she is! Saved me a trip to the police and the National Guard!”

“The sarcasm isn’t necessary,” Erin frowned, shutting and locking the door with both deadbolt and chin lock. She didn’t need any more surprises today.

“Then don’t ask stupid questions when you know the answer. You’re a DA. You’re supposed to be good at this.”

Before Erin could frame a response, Abby retracted her white cane and pushed her black glasses into her hairline, giving the apartment a once-over like she could actually see what she was looking at.

“Lovely white walls you have,” she commented, toeing off her boots.

"How…?” Erin squinted. Was there something she was missing in regards to exactly _how_ blind Abby was or pretended to be?

“It’s so bland I can taste it.” The shorter woman leaned in and unbelievably ran her tongue along a short section of wall, smacking her lips when she was done. “Yep, tastes like vanilla white girl. This is the woman you broke our rules to come and see?”

 _What are you doing here, Abby?_  Holtz asked, unable to keep the squirm of unease from nesting in her stomach. The angrier Abby got the more sarcastic she became, and she was already well on her way to throttling her, judging by the cold venom in her comments.

“Coming to find your sorry ass.” Turning in Erin’s general direction, Abby added, “You going to offer a beverage or maybe a seat? Isn’t that usually how Topsiders conduct business when they have guests, or am I going to just stand here like a lamp and shout at you two?”

Stuck in a quagmire of disbelief, all Erin managed to do was blink until her brain finally caught up. Remembering this was her home and Abby was a guest—unwanted though she was—Erin straightened. “The couch is to your left. I have water.”

“You make a living as a DA and all you have is H2O? Where’s the wine and caviar? Or at least a damn soda?”

“Reserved for occasions where I have time to plan,” Erin bit back, taking a wide stance and crossing her arms. “And I’d prefer if you kept your voice down unless you want my neighbors listening in. We’re not in the Underground. The walls are thin.”

“Duly noted, and if it’s wet and refreshing, I want it in my mouth,” Abby nodded dismissively before twisting around to face Holtzmann. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to have a conversation with my _favorite niece._ ”

Holtz tried not blanch at the tone of the older woman’s voice but couldn’t quite manage it.

 _"What in the hell were you thinking!?”_  Abby signed, making absolutely sure their conversation remained private even with Erin in the room.

_Did Jerry bring you?_

_“He brought me as far as the apartment, and I used the brale on the sidewalk to find my way here. God, Holtzmann, I don’t even know where to begin with you. Wait, I actually do. Let’s start with you sneaking out during the day and winding up spending the night Topside.”_

_I didn’t plan for this to happen!_

_“So you just, what, went for a walk and wound up shacked up in a Topsider’s apartment overnight? You just stumble and fell through her window? Is that how gravity works now?”_

_No…_ Holtz pulled at her ear, trying to keep her embarrassment at being caught like this and the frustration of being chastised like a child under wraps. _I just wanted to make sure Erin was okay. I didn’t plan on staying here all night. It was an accident._

 _“An accident that left you unconscious and bleeding,”_ Abby deadpanned, her milky-white eyes boring into Holtzmann’s.

 Holtz stubbornly refused to respond to the barb.

 _“So let me get this straight. You decided to check on your ‘new friend’ by sneaking Topside and breaking into her apartment? Am I relaying that correctly, because if I am I’m not sure I want you working with heavy equipment if you’re that stupid.”_ Abby scrubbed at her face, trying hard to quadrant off her thoughts so translating them into visual gestures was easier. Her anger made that difficult.

Holtz bristled. _Don’t pull my work into this._

_“Do you know what I had to do to get up here without your mother finding out?”_

_You go Topside all the time,_ Holtz argued, folding her arms and resting her chin on her drawn-up knees.

_“I come up here once every three months, but that’s beside the fucking point! Jerry was smart enough to come get me directly, but can you imagine what would have happened had he gone to your mother? Let’s sit and think for a minute how spectacular that would have gone over. And honestly, I have a mind to drag you back and leave you to her mercy after a stunt like this. I’m tired of covering for your ass, Holtzmann.”_

Hot defiance crackled down the blonde’s spine, shaping her expression into something more angry than petulant. The smooth planes of her strange face scrunched, highlighting the abnormalities that made her look more canine than human. Jaw clenched, the muscles in her back stiffened, drawing her upright. Abby didn’t need eyes to see this, however. She could practically smell the anger.

 _I’m thirty-two,_ Holtzmann stated icily. _I don’t need to be spoken to like I’m a child._

 _“Wow, you can state your age,”_ Abby signed, putting as much sarcasm into it as possible. _“Maybe try acting like it?”_

The growl that escaped between the seams of Holtz’s gritted teeth was anything but reassuring and loud enough Erin froze mid-reach for a fresh glass. Glancing over her shoulder, the DA caught a glimpse of fang as Holtzmann’s upper lip curled back. 

 _Maybe try letting me?_ Holtz snarled, unaware of how coiled she was becoming. _I’ve lived my entire life Underground. I’ve grown up in the pipes and sewers, but the fact remains, I’ve grown up! I’m tired of being treated like a child! For once, I just want to have a normal life and feel normal!_ She punctuated her last words by pounding her fist against her chest, mouthing the words her voice couldn’t relay.

_“But you’re not normal.”_

_Wow, I didn’t know! How could I forget the face I can’t help but show the world? Or the fact that to it I’m a freak._

_“Don’t get pissy with me for pointing out the obvious.”_

_Don’t point out the obvious when you know I’m already aware of it! I know everything you’re going to say, Abby. I’ve heard it all before, so save yourself the time explaining to me where I went wrong. I know, okay? I know!_

_“So this wasn’t about coming to visit Erin.”_ Abby leaned back, nose scrunched like she’d caught a whiff of something foul. _“She was just a means to an end. You used her as an excuse to come Topside. Wow.”_

 _I came because I cared!_ Holtz thundered, coming to her feet so quickly she nearly upset the coffee table when her knee caught the edge. Suddenly, her line of consciousness wasn’t simply privy to Abby because Erin heard the shout, the shock of it making her jump.

_You and Mother raised me to care for anyone in need, but the moment I start to do that with someone you disapprove of its a problem. You two raised me to see myself as just another human on this planet, but you don’t treat me like one. You keep me locked away like I’m some kind of dirty little secret. We stay Underground like we’re criminals, and for what? For what, Abby? No one has ever given me a straight answer as to why exactly we’re Underground and why me helping Erin is such a taint on our community._

Holtz didn’t know where this anger was coming from, but the flood of it wouldn’t stop. It was like she’d broken the cap off a pressure valve and no amount of duct-tape-pacification from Abby was going to fix it.

 _“You need to chill out. I’m not having this conversation with you Topside,”_ Abby signed, face set like a marble statue. She couldn’t help sense Erin watching the exchange and frowned further. It didn’t take working eyes to feel the scrutiny in the DA’s gaze. 

 _And it’s not a conversation you’ll have with me Underground either. None of you will,_ Holtz snapped.

 _“Where the hell is this coming from?”_ Turning in the general direction of where Abby could hear Erin, she threw out accusingly, “What the hell have you been saying to my niece?”

 _No!_ Holtz roared before Erin could even start to form a rebuttal, breathing so hard she was starting to get light-headed. _You do not get to turn this on Erin! You do not get to deflect!_ _She’s the only one not treating me like a ward!_

“Holtz, it’s okay,” Erin soothed, concern in her tone when she saw how badly the smaller woman was starting to shake and sweat. Coming out of the kitchen, she approached only to jerk back when Holtz jumped and turned a startled snarl in her direction, eyes huge and intensely blue. Hands up, Erin retreated. “Hey, hey, easy. It’s just me.”

“Jill, you need to calm down,” Abby spoke aloud, already on her feet. Though her tone was still spiced with anger, she kept her voice even and calm. “Okay, kiddo? Come back to earth.”

Erin didn’t know what was happening. Moments ago, Holtz had been calm, or relatively so. Perturbed, yes, but otherwise calm. This shift was as shocking as it was worrying. Erin had only known Holtzmann for a brief period, but she wouldn’t describe her as volatile. Not even during the argument Erin had witnessed between Holtz and her mother had she shown this level of raw emotion. Seeing her like this was like seeing two different people.

“Jill,” Abby called again, moving in front of Erin as if acting like a shield. “I’m gonna need you to breathe and calm down.”

Holtz was breathing all right. Breathing so fast her whole body rocked with the motion of rapid-fire chest expansion. Her shaking had grown so bad her hands vibrated at her sides, fingers claw-like and curled in towards her palms.

“What’s happening?” Erin whispered close to Abby’s ear.

“It’s a panic episode,” Abby hissed back. “She’s had them since she was young when overstimulated. It triggers a feral response. Now you see why she can’t be up here?”

Erin could, and her heart went out to the woman clearly struggling to wrangle the toxic emotions boiling inside her. Growing up under her father’s roof, Erin wasn’t a stranger to panic attacks. She knew what they could do to a person, what it could do to a mind.

Slowly, Holtz’s unceasing hyperventilation caught up with her. Too much oxygen in her blood fuzzed the edges of her vision, Abby’s voice growing further and further away. It was getting hard to stand upright. As if on cue, Holtz’s left knee dipped enough she almost lost her balance had she not grabbed the coffee table. Worse, gone was the thunder in her scowl, replaced with pale confusion.

Disregarding her own safety, Erin rushed forward, but Abby was faster. She grabbed the blonde around the waist, supporting most of her weight when she sagged further.

“Whoa, easy does it. Come back to earth, my little astronaut."

 _I can’t…breathe,_ Holtz wheezes, pawing at the neckline of her hoodie.

“You’re doing a good job so far,” Abby reassured but moved to remove the garment. Erin swooped into help, tugging on one sleeve while Abby took the other. Holtz popped free with a relieved inhale, flopping back against the cushions, right hand flat against her chest.

Backing away so as not to crowd the two, Erin watches from the coffee table, a light blush heating her cheeks. She hadn’t known what to expect. Probably something less humanoid, which was absurd. Holtzmann was entirely human right down to the soft, pale skin and the gentle swell of her breasts held down under a black sports bra. She was more sinewy than Erin imagined she’d be, muscles toned from years of climbing around the Underground and working on her machines. The only thing that seemed amiss was the line of blonde…fur?...that ran like a faint stripe from the base of her slender throat, between her breasts, and down the flat plane of the stomach, disappearing into the waistband of her jeans—

“ _Erin!_ ”

The DA jumped at the snap of her name, mind returning to her body like a ball on a tether cord. “W-what?”

“I said, some water would be great,” Abby repeated, giving her a pointed look. On the couch, Holtzmann seemed to have significantly calmed, slouched to one side with her eyes closed, hair a frizzy mess around her face.

“Right, sorry. Yes, hold on.” It didn’t dawn on Erin there were two glasses of water sitting on the coffee table until she was back in the kitchen, so she backtracked and handed one to Abby who handed it to Holtz. Sensing the situation was more or less defused, Erin sat on the couch cushion beside her friend, refraining from touching her by digging her hands into Holtzmann’s hoodie.

“Holtz? Are you okay?”

 _Head’s a little…foggy,_ she mumbled between sips, making a vague gesture. _I’m sorry. I scared you again. I didn’t mean—_

“You didn’t scare me,” Erin smiled wanly. “Well, not like that. I was scared for you, how about that?”

_Kinda the same thing._

Erin couldn’t bring herself to argue.

Somewhere in the silence stretching over the awkward group, Abby asked if Erin had a bathroom she could find without stripping all over the apartment and was guided down the hall with reassurance she could find her way back. Alone with Holtzmann again, Erin remained quiet and watchful as the episode faded, taking a large portion of the Undergrounder’s energy with it.

“Are you cold?” Erin ventured, noticing how Holtz’s hands tracked along her upper arms in a steady rhythm.

_Stimulation helps with the calming, but it is a little chilly._

“Here.” Slowly, as to not startle the woman again, Erin moved closer until the two shared the same cushion and scrunched Holtz’s hoodie enough she could pop her head and arms through with little effort. The smaller woman graciously accepted the gesture but surprised the DA by flopping forward with a grunt and groggily resting her head against Erin’s chest.

Erin froze, holding her breath. Internally, she warred a battle between easing the blonde off or letting her rest. The latter of the two proved to be the stronger contender. It was awkward. It was more than a little strange, but in the secret chambers of Erin’s chest she felt the presence of the other woman like a comforting weight. Like Erin was a balloon at the mercy of the wind, but Holtzmann was the anchor keeping her grounded.

Abby returned, and Erin had to fight the instinct to shove herself away to the other end of the couch like a teenager caught in a compromising situation by their parents. Which was absurd.

“She seems comfortable,” she commented with a tired sigh, making Erin wonder, yet again, just how blind she actually was, or was she referring to how quite Holtzmann had become?

 _Warm and comfortable,_ Holtz muttered, still a welcome weight in Erin’s lap.

“I need to get you home, pup. I know you don’t want to, and I know you’re probably still pissed at me, but you need to get Underground. We need to have Taft look at your head, okay?”

Holtz groaned unhappily, and Erin wrestled a gasp when the smaller woman rubbed her face into her chest, shifting closer.

“Dude,” Abby admonished, “you’re making your friend uncomfortable. She’s not a nuzzling post. Save that for the second date.”

“No—no,” Erin squeaked, clearing her throat to lower her voice. “She’s…um…this is fine. But I, ah, have to kind of agree with Abby on this one. Let’s get you home.”

Another string of groans and whines. Holtzmann fully turned her face into Erin, and if the DA hadn’t been flushed before she was positively radiating heat now.

“Is she…usually like this after an episode?” Erin wondered aloud, unsure what to do with a snuggly Holtz attempting to curl into her like she was a tiny cat and not a fully grown adult.

“Unfortunately,” Abby sighed, mouth twisted in a sour expression. “You’re the easiest target since she’s still mad at me. Jillian Holtzmann,” she snapped, nudging the blonde. “I will carry you Underground myself if it comes to that. Please do not make me sling you over my shoulder and slap your ass like you’re eight years old again.”

 _Never know, I might like that,_ Holtz muttered, still hunched up against Erin.

“That’s not one of your kinks. Don’t even play.”

“Oh…my—god,” Erin exhaled, looking up at the ceiling for guidance of any kind. Really. Any help right now would be appreciated.

 _Fine_ , the younger woman finally relented, dragging out the word and stiffly rising to her feet. She wasn’t completely stable—her balance compromised and her energy gone—so it was left up to Abby and Erin to steady her.

“As much as I want to tell you to fuck off and stay up here, I’m going to need your help getting her into the upper tunnels,” Abby begrudgingly explained as the wobbly trio made their way to the door after Erin fetched their coats and secured Holtz’s scarf around her face. Just to be safe—since they would be walking through New York during the daylight, Erin let Holtz borrow a pair of old aviation sunglasses to better hide the unusual shape of her eyes and brow. The end result left Holtzmann looking more like an extra in a Top Gun remake than an actual person.

 _High-way…to…the…dangerzone,_ she sang after catching her reflection in the mirror by the door, making Erin snort and Abby roll her eyes.

“I can help you take her the entire way,” Erin offered to which Abby shook her head.

“Nope. The last thing I need is for a century to spot you and alert Gorin.”

“You have centuries?” the DA frowned, punching the elevator button while silently praying her neighbors didn’t become curious.

“Keeps unwanted things out. Gangs are a problem in the tunnels.” Erin had to admit that made sense.

Since most of the day had passed while Holtzmann slept and later during their interrupted movie viewing, New York was in semi-twilight. Arm slung over Abby’s shoulder and Erin’s arm around her waist, Holtzmann did her best to walk normally, fighting the swell of panic when wading into oncoming crowds.

This wasn’t what she expected.

Viewing the city from above and below was one thing. In those two places, space meant very little. On the ground, in the thick of it, that same space was limited. Congested. Choked by the sheer amount of bodies crammed into one large city. Sight, sound, smell, taste, it all hit her in a rush that left her reeling. Simply put, had Abby and Erin not had her sandwiched between them, Holtzmann would have likely run into the nearest alley and hidden until night provided better cover.

“Almost there,” Abby whispered encouragement, sensing Holtz’s growing unease. “Another block and we’re—“

“Yo, Erin!”

The call cut through the chatter of cars and clustered bodies like a knife, drawing the three to a standstill.

“ _Fuck!_ ” The DA didn’t need to turn to know who was calling. She’d recognize Patty’s voice anywhere.

“Patty, hey!” Erin greeted, trying to look and act natural while continuing to cling to a visibly stiff Holtzmann. “What, um, what are you doing here?”

“Girl, you look like you’ve had a crazy night,” the PI observed, sweeping her eyes over Erin’s disheveled appearance barely hidden under her heavy wool coat. “You go drinking without me again?”

“What? No! No, I stayed in and watched a movie. Couple of movies. Scary movies, yeah. Didn’t sleep much, cause yah know, scary moves and their ability…to…scare you. Um…we had a date, didn’t we?”

Patty gave the shorter woman a look hovering between concern and suspicion. “Yeah, we did.”

“Yes! Right!” Erin exclaimed, trying not to smack her forehead for forgetting. “That was tonight.”

“You still owe me for running out on our last date,” Patty grumped with a puff of white vapor before her curiosity piqued when taking in the two Undergrounders beside Erin, especially the one who looked like she was barely standing and covered in enough fabric to choke a chimney sweep. It didn’t take being on the force for nearly twenty years to set off warning sirens in Patty’s head. “Everything okay here?”

“Oh! Yes. This is—“

“Her aunt,” Abby supplied, saving the DA from crafting what would likely be a fine lie but earning a side-glare from Erin.

“Erin doesn’t have an aunt,” Patty frowned. Which was true, and she would know. Patty knew more about Erin’s family than Erin did on account she’d been hired to track her down.

“She’s a friend of my father’s,” Erin spoke over the woman before Abby could interrupt again. “Abby, this is Patty.”

“I’d shaking your hand, but on account I’m blind, I don’t know where it is,” Abby said with a helpless shrug. “Then again, I can always use my eco location and just shout at you until I get a clear picture.”

“I didn’t know she was in town, and she stopped by my apartment,” Erin explained hastily before Abby could do exactly what she alluded to.

By the set of the tall woman’s shoulders and the way she planted her hands on her hips, it was clear Patty was having trouble swallowing the lie. “Your other friend okay?” she asked, pointing to Holtzmann.

“Totally fine. Picked her up at a club and thought I’d take her home with me. Blind girls gotta get some action too.”

Erin whipped around and gave Abby the hardest ‘what the fuck?’ look, which was only rivaled by the sudden hard frown overtaking Patty’s face.

“You wanna run that by me again?” she rumbled, taking a step forward. Unamusement couldn’t even begin to describe the expression on her face.

“Abby, seriously?! That joke has never been funny. Patty, no, she’s not being serious. This is Jill, Abby’s niece.”

“You okay there, sunglasses?” Patty asked Holtzmann directly, ignoring Erin’s reassurance in lieu of following the squirming in her gut.

Holtz nodded slowly—practically hanging off of Abby and clinging to Erin. The PI looked like she was about to press the issue when Erin gently let go and approached her friend, keeping her voice low. “She’s mute, Patty. She can’t answer more than that unless you know how to read sign language.”

Something about this meeting didn’t sit well with her, so Patty lifted her hands, causing Erin’s heart rate to spike into the 200s.  _“I can read and sign. Are you all right? You don’t look like you’re doing so hot.”_

“You know how to sign?” Erin squeaked, trying to sound more shocked than panicked.

“It was either that or Spanish in school. Figured I’d pick something more marginalized. Can speak Spanish too, just so you know, but I picked that up later.”

 _“Too much partying,”_ Holtzmann signed back with unsteady hands, not unused to speaking this way to Topsiders. _“Feels like I got hit in the head with a bat.”_

“Yeah, the bottle will do that. What club?”

_“Underground goth club. Wanted to get my spook on. Spook got me on…or all over me. It was a wild night.”_

“I can see that. Like them shades, though. Helps with hangovers.” 

“I’m so sorry to cut this short, but we need to get going. Abby and Jill’s bus leaves in an hour,” Erin interrupted, rejoining Holtz and helping her stand again.

“You sure she’s gonna be able to help her blind aunt if she can barely stand?”

“She’ll sober up on the ride home,” Abby supplied.

“I won’t be long,” Erin continued. “If you want to head over to my apartment and wait for me, that would be awesome. You’ve still got my key?”

“Yeah, girl. Take your time. It was nice meeting the both of you. _Feel better_ ,” she signed the last part to Holtzmann before shoving her hands back into her pockets and taking her leave.

Erin didn’t exhale until Patty rounded the corner, sagging and unconsciously putting her head on Holtzmann’s shoulder. “Oh my god, I’ve lost years off my life.”

“She your girlfriend?” Abby asked, once again dragging them all forward to the tunnel entrance she knew was close by.

“What? No,” Erin frowned. She didn’t mean for the comment to come across as sharp as it had.

“Something wrong if she was?” Abby’s tone was just as sharp. Weighing, even. Erin got the feeling she was being judged.

“If you’re asking if I have a problem with same-sex couples, the answer is no,” Erin answered haughtily. “Patty was the Private Investigator my father hired to find me. We’ve become friends. _Platonic friends_.” She had no idea why she added that last bit but felt the need to clear the air.

“Well, that's at least a strike in your favor,” Abby muttered.

As it turned out, Erin discovered there were quite a few Underground entrances near her apartment, which made sense but also made the woman uneasy. Finding out there were holes in your city that lead into whole hidden communities tended to make you think twice about what else could be lurking under the streets. The closest entrance—the one Abby used to reach Erin’s apartment with Jerry—was a block over and located in a narrow alley squeezed between a laundromat and an appliance store. The appliance store had a basement entrance usually secured with a combination lock. Descending into said basement stacked to the ceiling with dusty crates and appliance parts, Erin was led to a false wall with a hidden latch Abby sprung with her foot.

The tunnel wasn’t anything like the ones Holtzmann led Erin through weeks ago. This was a dark passage that plunged arrow-straight into a seemingly endless void. Without proper illumination, there was little chance someone would venture in willingly. 

"This is our stop,” Abby said, breaking the silence.

"You sure?” Erin leaned in. This was like something out of Phantom of the Opera. It dripped of cliché.

"No, I’m just guessing and hoping for the best.”

 _She’s right. This leads to the tunnel I used to get up to your apartment. Ninja Turtle style. Right into the sewers,_ Holtz said with a sleepy smile. _We’ll be okay._

Erin wasn’t remotely convinced, but having no knowledge of the tunnels, she had to take their word for it.

Letting go of Holtzmann was proving to be harder than she realized. With a fair bit of effort, Erin disentangled herself and stepped back, letting Abby take the full weight of the exhausted Undergrounder.

“Are you sure I can’t help you all at least part of the way?”

“No. We’ll be fine. Just remember to spin the lock before you leave, and don’t tell anyone about this door or we’ll have to kill you.” Abby yelped when Holtz slugged her hard in the arm, giving her a sour look now that her hood, glasses, and scarf were off.

_Stop it. She’s just trying to help._

_"_ Jesus, fine,” Abby muttered, rubbing her arm. “I’m going to hold that against you when we get back. Say goodbye. We need to get home before Mother sends out a search party.”

"No, you keep them,” Erin sheepishly smiled when Holtz tried to hand the shades back.

 _There’s no sun Underground,_ Holtz smiled lopsidedly.

“They still look better on you. Thank you, by the way, for coming to check up on me. Even if it ended kind of badly…and painfully.”

_Thank you for not killing me what that bat. It would have sucked turning into a ghost and haunting your apartment for eternity._

“Yeah, sorry about the,” Erin grimaced, gesturing at Holtz’s head, “concussion.”

It was awkward, this exchange. Neither wanted to leave, but they both knew it was for the best. But with no indication of when they’d see the other again, there was a heaviness to the parting. Like it had been weeks ago when Erin left the Underground for the first time. A part of her wanted to just take Holtz’s hand and walk into the tunnels with her. The logical part said it wasn’t her world and she needed to keep them separate.

“Either kiss or don’t, this tension is killing me,” Abby sniffed, leaning against the open passage and startling the two.

“Right, um, goodbye. You too, Abby.”

_Bye, Erin._

Slipping her arm back over Abby’s shoulder, the blonde took her leave, waving with a sad smile as the two shuffled off into the darkness. Erin waited until she couldn’t see the two anymore, chest heavy, before taking her leave.

_Erin?_

The DA jumped and spun, expecting to find the smaller woman behind her. Holtz wasn’t there, but she was sure she’d heard her voice. “Holtz?”

 _I don’t know if you can hear me,_ the engineer was saying, her voice growing fainter. _But meet me in two days at the West entrance. The one you came out of coming home. I want to show you something. Will send a friend…_

Erin barely caught that last bit, the voice fading into darkness, but the message was still loud and clear. So this wasn’t the end. A reckless smile caught her off guard that didn’t fade until she reached her apartment and realized, belatedly, she’d have to walk through Central Park. At night. In the dead of winter.

“Oh my god,” Erin exhaled, resting her head against the door before pushing it open. “What have I gotten myself into?”

“I don’t know, but whatever it is it ain’t good,” Patty said from her place on the couch, looking up when Erin walked through the door. Before the brunette could say anything, the PI motioned at the mess of papers on the floor. “Just a scary movie night?”

“Rat,” Erin muttered without looking at the woman, hanging her coat. “The bat you gave me was…effective.”

"Shit yeah it is. Big ass rat too, judging by the mess.”

“This _is_ New York.”

"Touché. If it ain’t the rats it’s the roaches. I’m pretty sure the ones in my place have become sentient. That’s why I sleep with my gun. Ain’t no way I’m gonna get caught off guard.”

"No argument there,” Erin exhaled, flopping down on the couch next to her friend and throwing her head back. She was roused from her flop by a poke in the shoulder and an offered wine glass. Apparently, Patty had made herself comfortable.

“What?” the PI grinned toothily when Erin gave her a look over top the rim of her glass. “I found your wine collection when I was searching your place. Seemed an appropriate time to crack open a bottle seeing as you look like shit.”

“Thanks for that, Patty.”

"Anytime, babygirl. Your aunt’s a trip, too. Don’t know where your daddy found that one.”

“Long story,” Erin said, draining half of her glass in two long swallows that eased the tension building between her shoulders since Holtz crawled through her window. After a brief pause in the conversation, Erin straightened up and turned towards the PI. “Mind if we order in tonight?”

“Food is food, baby,” Patty shrugged, glancing over Erin’s DVD choices. “As long as I’ve got booze and food, I’m happy.”

“Wonderful, because I wanted to ask you something.”

Patty quirked an eyebrow. “This a favor?”

"You could say that,” Erin nodded slowly.

"Gonna cost yah.”

“I’m paying you in cash, food, and wine…”

“What we talking about?” Patty sobered, setting her glass aside. “Something legal, I hope?”

"Something well within your line of expertise.” Erin twisted the glass between her palms, mulling her request over before committing to it. “I need you to look up a name for me.”

“Body search? This for work or personal?”

“Personal…but you can claim it’s for work if it makes this easier. Whatever the case, I want you to find me everything you can on a woman named Gorin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was a bit of a longer update than normal, but I couldn't bring myself to split this chapter in half. Oh, the tension and intrigue! I do feel I need to apologize for now updating this according to schedule. I've not been doing well mental-health wise, and on top of that I'm taking my final accelerated math course so I can graduate Uni in August. Safe to say, I'm spread a little thin, but I will start doing regular updates again soon
> 
> Thank you all for sticking with me and reading my work. I would love to hear your reviews. They make my day and let me know how I'm doing. Please and thank you =)


	18. Chapter 18

Returning to work after a month hiatus was like finally itching a scratch Erin couldn’t reach. Inactivity was like itching powder. Sure, Phillip had given her smaller cases to look over in her downtime to keep the jitters at bay, but it wasn’t the same. Erin could feel the honed edge of her mind dulling. Nearly three months away from her job felt like three years. Luckily, with how slowly the wheels of justice turned, three months seemed more like three days, but there were still clients to meet, paperwork to file, reports to type up, evidence to sift through and a whole plethora of other delicate tasks that took a sharp mind and even sharper reflexes to handle.

Arriving at her office promptly at eight and easing herself behind her desk and booting her computer, Erin took a moment to soak everything in. Even being back, her old, familiar habitat seemed different. Surreal. Like she hadn’t been gone for a quarter of a year against her wishes. Everything was as she’d left it the night of her abduction—pens in her holder next to a picture of her mother, her acrylic boxed Princess Dianna bear next to her speaker, and filing trays neatly stacked— but Erin felt like a transplant. Like something had changed. Or maybe she had changed, hard to say.

 _The feeling will fade,_ she reassured herself, scrolling through three months’ worth of emails and docket proceedings. The backlog was enough to make her physically dizzy, but in no time she was back into the swing of things, buried so deep in cathartic repetition she hardly noticed the day passing. Before Erin knew it, her office was illuminated solely by her desk light and she was rubbing her eyes free of grit.

“Why am I not surprised you’re still here?”

The voice made Erin jump. Phillip raised his hands with a crooked, apologetic smile from the doorway. “Sorry. I forget how good the carpets are in here. Am I going to have to pry you out of that chair, or will you go home and _sleep_ willingly?”

Leaning back and rolling her neck, Erin began to notice the stretch of her aches now that her attention was diverted. She’d been hunched for too long. The burn of stagnant muscles was an old, almost welcome discomfort. “There’s no rest for the wicked,” she smiled wanly, sweeping her hand above her desk to indicate the smattering of scattered papers.

“Luckily, there’s not a wicked bone in your body,” Phillip chuckled, waving her forward. “Come on, Gilbert. You can’t do three months’ worth of catchup in one day.”

“Try me,” Erin quipped, raising an eyebrow.

“I know better than to challenge you. But the cleaning staff needs _your_ butt to be out of _that_ chair before they can start, so up—up—up, let’s get food in the both of us before we blow away in a strong breeze.”

Erin rolled her eyes but rose anyway, seeing the logic. It wasn’t exactly _that_ late—she’d stayed at the office well past midnight many times before and it was barely eight—but her first day had been productive and she did deserve at least one proper meal.

“I’ve got a hankering for biscuits and gravy. Up for the diner?”

“While your offer is tempting,” Erin said gathering her satchel and following Phillip out of the office to into an elevator. “It’s home for me.”

“You sure? You’re not usually one to pass up the diner.” Which was true. It was one of Erin’s favorite places to eat and work during her lunch hour. She and Phillip staged many long evenings there going over casefiles while devouring diner favorites and pots of black coffee.

“First day back. Still feeling a little jittery and…raw,” Erin admitted sheepishly as the elevator began to descend. Beside her, Phillip gave his friend and colleague a sad but understanding smile.

“I can’t even begin to imagine, but okay. Though, you owe me a stack of flapjacks to make up for it. Or a drink at Thompsons.”

One of the few bars Erin frequented after work and a favorite among the judicial crowd. The food was decent—not just your average bar fare—and the drinks were good, especially if Sam was on bar. Erin idly wondered if she should swing by and see Sam just to let her know what all had happened but decided against it. No doubt everyone in New York knew her story, and the last thing Erin wanted to do was retell it again.

“Deal,” she nodded.

 Sensing his friend’s unease ramp up a notch when the two existed the building, Phillip waited until Erin hailed a cab and climbed in, waving her off with a smile.

“Where to?” the cabbie grunted. Reply with her address, Erin settled back for the ride, letting her mind properly wander for the first time that day. Most of her thoughts drifted back to case proceedings, dockets, and the evidence she’d sifted through, but something else lingered at the fringes that, when brushed against, sparked like static on a cold day.

_I wonder how Holtzmann’s doing?_

Strange how her train of thought shifting to the Undergrounder made something twist under Erin’s sternum. Fingers drumming the door handle, Erin shifted in her seat, the carbonated tingle bubbling in her stomach not going unnoticed, nor did the ghost of a smile twisting her lips.

Thinking of her Underground friend had that effect now. Holtzmann was an enigma. Hell, her whole community was—Gorin chief among them—but it was a puzzle Erin found herself happy to be a part of. Strange and inside-out her life may be now, it was no longer stagnant like it had been prior to her abduction. That singular event was the meteor to her Earth, setting the stage for new growth after cleansing fire. Maybe, she thought, she was just riding the waves of disturbance and things would settle into a familiar routine. Maybe things would never be the same. No matter the outcome, Erin’s world was forever changed, and she had Holtzmann to thank for it. Her strange, wonderfully kooky, brilliant and caring friend.   

With that thought in mind—and the memory of their planned meeting for tomorrow in tow—an idea formed lightning-quick in her brain.

“Excuse me,” she called to the cabbie. The man acknowledged her with a grunt. “How far are we from 757 Fifth Avenue?”

“Couple of blocks.”

“Change of route, if you please.”

“Sure. Whatever.” If the cabbie found this odd he didn’t mention it, nodding and pulling out into traffic. Erin settled back, her grin hard to contain. Yes, this would do nicely.

Thirty minutes later she was hurrying out of a quickly closing FAO Schwartz with a sack in hand and a smile on her face. The next cab she hailed took her home where she began putting together a surprise for her subterranean friend that would talk place the following day.

* * *

  

The stack of folders in Erin’s arms were heavy this morning. It took a little muscle hefting them without any slipping free. She waved off the offer of aid and headed to her office with a pleased smile curling her lips.

“I really need to get back to a gym,” Erin panted a little breathlessly, fighting back a smile as she shouldered open her door. The stack made a solid thud when she let it go above her desk. To anyone else, this was an insane amount of work. To Erin Gilbert, this was a steady Tuesday afternoon. She had a lot of backlog to sift through and by God she would do it.

Eager to get to work, the DA slid into her chair, booted her computer, and began cracking files one by one, working her way through each with methodical care. Sorting was the first order of business. She had three trays on her desk to fill: one for dockets, one for fresh cases, one for outgoing cases. Reach, open, scan, sort: a four-step system of muscle memory and years of practice. Reach, open, scan, sort. Over and over until the stack was done, time slipping by unnoticed. Reach, open, scan—

Erin didn’t know at what point she’d jumped out of her chair, the piece of furniture overturning behind her. Was it when she saw her face looking back at her from the slab of a morgue table, or was it the polaroid of five men, one averagely white with a scar above his lip and black eyes that looked so much like a shark, staring up at her from under the paperclip holding it in place.

Her heart made the painful jump from her chest to her throat and stayed there. Vision blurring around the edges, all she could take in was that face. Suddenly, Erin was back in the van. She could feel the arms wrapped around her body, the ones keeping her from struggling.

 _“Marco doesn’t like when his girls get out of line, so we got a lesson to teach you.”_  

It was like the scarred man was standing in the room. Erin could hear his voice. Feel the cruel arm wrapped around her chest, holding her in place. Feel the spark of the taser against her lower back. Feel the bite of the knife in her side, the stale stench of the van filling her nose.

She was backing away, struggling to breathe, struggling and failing to remain in the present. Every blow came back to her in a hail of cruel abuse. Every boot thrown. Every crack of a rib. And then she was gasping and gurgling and trying to see out of only one working eye while the scarred man was shoving a knife into her ribs and tossing her out of a moving vehicle.

Erin’s back bumped into the wall of windows behind her. She physically screamed—or attempted to, the sound that came from her throat was strangled. Gasping. Crying. Shaking. All the hallmarks of a panic attack throttling sense and reason from her mind. Run. She needed to run. To hide. To find some place—

 _Erin?_ The voice cut through the chaos. Familiar. Comforting. Erin jerked with the suddenness and looked for its originator, but she was the sole body in the room. _You’ve got this. Everything will be okay. Just breathe._

Understanding dawned a slow sunrise. That had been the last thing Holtzmann said to her before Erin returned Topside. When she’d frozen just outside the tunnel afraid of stepping back into her world after two subterranean months.   

Holtzmann.

The flash of a fanged smile, blue eyes bright and always cheerful. Always soft. Always kind. Those same eyes that watched over Erin while she slept, recovering. That same smile she’d flashed countless times in her lab while explaining her work, or when she’d grin while reading to Erin at her bedside. The strong arms that helped Erin stand and walk before the DA knew who hid under the mask and goggles. The gentle hands that changed her bandages and the clear sound of her laughter when responding to something Abby said or a joke she’d saved for Erin.

Without noticing, the DA slid to the floor in her office, head in her hands. At least she was breathing. The panic was starting to ebb, giving her clarity. It did little for the painful knot in her chest or the dull ache in her side, but it got her to focus.   

Closing her eyes, Erin mentally pictured the tunnels and her friend, choosing that as her grounding point. It was shockingly easy. In Holtzmann, she’d found an anchor. How odd yet blessedly wonderful.

After an indeterminable time, Erin mastered herself. Standing, she readjusted her skewed clothing, closed her office door, then returned to her desk without sitting or righting her upturned chair. Arms braced on either side of the file, Erin forced herself to look. This was indescribably important. This was, literally, a case of life and death.

Turns out, she’d been right all along. Her abduction was mistaken identity as evident in the pictures below her. The hit had never been for her. It had been for the poor woman in the photo on the autopsy table. Her nose was a little different and she had a sharper chin, but this—Erin squinted at the name—Debora Jane was her doppelganger.

Next, Erin scrutinized the men in the photo. Only one stood out. The man with the scar above his lip. She would never forget his face, half dissolved in shadow or not. He was her permanent boogeyman for the rest of her natural life. A part of Erin categorized and filed this information away. She would call De'fante. The detective needed to know. Maybe more could be done now that the men had been apprehended for the right murder.

Another part of the DA, the more prominent half of her consciousness, closed the folder with shaking fingers. She couldn’t do this. Not legally. Not emotionally. Not physically. Erin wasn’t ready to face this, so she found herself knocking on Phillip’s door and entering before the summons to do so.

“Erin?” the sharply dressed man behind the desk looked up, confusion turning to worry when he saw the pale state of his friend. “Is everything all right?”

Erin didn’t answer. The file said everything: accusation notwithstanding. Carefully, she crossed the room and put the manila folder on his desk. Frowning, Phillip thumbed it open and uttered an uncharacteristically acrid curse, quickly shutting and throwing it down. “Oh my god, Erin, I’m so sorry. This…Jesus, this wasn’t supposed to get to you. I didn’t…”

“Were you going to tell me?” her question was as tight as it was quiet, Erin’s gaze briefly leaving Phillip’s desk.

“Not like this,” Phillip shook his head, standing and coming around to her. He noted how she edged away and kept a respectful distance.

“Does De’fante know?”

"I’m not sure who made the arrest. I didn’t read the file completely, but when I saw the photo…Erin, I swear to you, I didn’t want you to see this. One of the ADA’s was supposed to pass it along to another DA. I don’t know how it got into your stack.”

“They killed her, Philip.” The statement sent chills down Erin’s spin. Had it not been for her unlikely savior there would have been two Erins dead on a slab.

“I know,” he said just as quietly, leaning back against his desk. “Please tell me you didn’t read—“

“Debora Jane was stabbed six times before being dumped in the East River,” Erin recited. She’d read the cause of death. Of course she had. She’d read the entire file cover to cover. “Coroner’s notes state she bled to death, but she was drowning at the same time. They found water in her lungs and stomach.”

“Jesus Christ,” Philip exhaled looking away.  

“These men tried to do the same to me but…” Erin couldn’t finish her sentence for a number of reasons and settled for a weak shrug instead while her mind flashed to a set of blues eyes and the bright smile attached to them. Not for the first time, the DA felt an ache settle in her bones. A longing she’d never experienced until coming up from the Underground.

"This isn't your fault."

Erin looked at her friend, eyes dry but heart heavy. "How is this not my fault?"

"I see the wheels in your head turning, Erin. You're thinking it's your fault Debora Jane is dead."

True to form, Philip was right. Damn him. It had been a childish, naive belief that the thugs responsible for her assault would flee the city after her return. After all, marks didn't rise again from the grave but she had, and Erin had the benefit of actually _seeing_ one of them face-to-face. But she hadn't pushed for De'fante to get his description into the papers. She hadn't pushed for pressure to be put on Falconi. She hadn't done anything other that assume, stupidly, the cowards would run the minute word got out she was back. They hadn't. They stalked Debora Jane, their intended target, and ended her life. They finished the job that began with Erin. Fuck yes she blamed herself.  

Would she say all this to Philip? No. It didn't need to be said. He knew her well enough to decipher the war waging behind her eyes. 

“I swear to god, Erin. No, look at me.” Erin settled on Phillip’s earnest face. “I swear to you, these men will burn. I’ll throw every ounce of muscle into this case. Hell, I’ll take it on personally. They will fry for what they did to you.”

“Not just to me, Philip. They killed Debora Jane after they thought they killed me. Do what I couldn't. Pin them for her as much as me. Pin Falconi.”

“You have my word.” A faint nod was all she could muster. “Take the rest of the day off.”

Erin looked like she might protest—in fact, she was preparing to do just that—but Philip continued. “I love you, Erin. You’re one of my best DAs and as close a friend as I’ve ever had, but you’re head isn’t in the game right now. Understandably so, let me make that clear, so for today, take some time to get your bearings. You’re only losing a few hours. I’ll see you here bright and early tomorrow.”

She nodded again, thankful to have a boss as understanding as Philip. “I have a few more files to sort. Let me get those done before I go.”

Erin finished her work and left. The cab ride home came and went without notice. So did her trek into her apartment. Standing in her kitchen with all the cognition of a sleepwalker, Erin stared at the tiny space she called home and listened to the quiet that loyally accompanied it. She didn’t want to sit in silence. That would give her too many opportunities for the guilt steadily growing in her to germinate into something dangerous. If only she’d been more adamant about sketching the scarred man—Benjamin Raymon. If only she’d pushed harder. If she’d done more, Debora Jane would be alive right now…

“I can’t do this.”

Hustling to her bedroom, Erin changed, grabbed the knapsack she’d prepared the night before, and left. It was still a while before dark but she had a lot of ground to cover. A lot of courage to muster or conscience to quell.

She walked for hours. Back and forth down familiar avenues. She walked to clear and sort her mind, letting the noise of the city baptize her. Erin stood on one of the East River bridges, looking down into the churning water. Debora Jane had been found a quarter mile upstream, caught in a fisherman’s net.

Erin didn’t linger. Something about the site made her feel like she was being watched and judged.

By the time night fell and New York illuminated the darkness with light pollution and neon, Erin was sore, out of breath and no better off than when she’d started. Something grim had taken hold. Maybe she was challenging fate. Maybe she felt she deserved a little more punishment on account her perceived naivety and cowardice caused another human’s death. Was that why she was standing at the West entrance to Central Park, at night, in dark clothes, with only a Magnum flashlight for protection and a pack on her back?

 _I’ve gone completely insane,_ Erin thought darkly, unable to ignore her climbing heartrate. This was perhaps the stupidest thing she had ever done. Check that. It _was_ the stupidest thing she’d ever done, but she was doing it anyway, driven by the need for familiar comfort.

It wasn’t difficult hiking back the way she’d come weeks ago. The path wasn’t hard to find or follow, it was just dark. Unreasonably dark. Erin’s flashlight did little to banish the gloom, cutting swaths of white that turned trees into monochrome pillars and bushes into glowing halos, air cold in her lungs. The shadows didn’t scare her. Erin’s nightmares were far worse than the monsters nature could conjure.

Her mind skipped back to the night in the van. Each footfall punctuated another memory. Another burst of feeling. Another opportunity to relive the death she skirted that day.

 _Why was I left alive?_ It was survivors remorse. Erin knew the signs. She’d seen it in enough victims. So she walked, flashlight leading the way, until the trees thinned and cleared, revealing a cement drainpipe tall enough she could walk under without stooping. The door to the tunnels wasn’t much of a door but rather an iron grate bolted into the cement. Had Erin not watched Holtzmann swing it open she would have believed it truly secure.

“Holtzmann is…stronger…than she looks,” the DA panted after struggling to open and re-secure the gate. From here is was a straight shot down into truly impenetrable darkness.

Something occurred to the DA as she descended that gave her pause. Holtzmann never did say how she’d know Erin was coming. She told her to come but hadn’t stated a time. What did that mean? Had the Undergrounder been waiting all day? Did Erin need to bang on a pipe? Which pipe then and where?

So engrossed in her ponderings, Erin jumped and swore loudly when something furry brushed her leg. The flashlight beam whipped around, cutting through the darkness in white stripes in its search. Eventually, it found the source of her fright.

“Cat,” Erin exhaled with a growl, scowling at the orange and white tabby staring haughtily at her. “You are lucky you’re not a rat.”

It wasn’t a curiosity finding cats in the sewers. They were as plenty as the rats. Well, that wasn’t true. The rats outnumbered most of New York’s population, but still. What was odd, however, was the growing number of cats. The orange tabby was quickly joined by another and another until the tunnel was clustered with them. Erin had to walk carefully and shuffle her feet to avoid stepping on any and even that was only marginally successful.

“Okay, I don’t know where you all came from, but if this is a Willard situation I expect every one of you to protect me with your life. I have a pretty solid fear of rats.”

The cats paid her no mind, roaming where they saw fit. It was comforting, almost, having them with her until in the blink of an eye they were gone. Just like that. Poof. Scattered to places unknown and the hairs on the back of Erin’s neck prickled. It dawned on her in that strange moment—self-preserving clarity finally coming to the forefront of her mind—that she, a woman, was alone in a sewer pipe descending into the unknown with only a flashlight as both torch and sword.

“Oh Erin,” she whispered, her voice carrying through the pipe. “What have you gotten yourself into?”

Something shifted behind her: boots on concrete.

Not alone. Definitely not alone.  

Erin’s turn was fast, done on the balls of her feet. The flashlight whipped around but it illuminated none of the tunnel behind her. Instead, the beam was focused on something massive inches away. A torso. And when that beam traveled higher up the chest and finally landed on the face nearly two feet above her own head all Erin could do was stare and start to shake because this couldn’t be real. Because there was no face to look at. Only a solid white mask devoid of flesh and features, accented with a stripe of red across the eyes like war paint.

A giant. A wraith. A true monster of the Underground that reached out, cupped the lens of Erin’s flashlight and crushed it into dust, plummeting her into true darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So glad to be back! I'm so, so sorry these past five weeks have seen sporadic updates from me. Happily, I am completely done with school! Yep, finally a Fine Arts college grad with highest distinction. I'm so glad to be done! Now I can focus on getting a job and writing for you all full time! 
> 
> AND I END WITH A CLIFFHANGER! Oh Erin, what have you gotten yourself into now?
> 
> Reviews and comments literally let me know how I'm doing and what you all think about these updates. Please and thank you! Don't be shy!


	19. Chapter 19

She was suffocating.

Spiraling.

Sliding down to what she hoped was the ground so long as gravity still existed in the heart of the black hole she’d been thrown. Erin had known darkness before but never on this scale. It assaulted her like a physical presence, bearing down, closing in, wrapping and trapping and ensnaring her with a terror even her nightmares couldn’t touch—a venerable monster in the room—ensuring she would never again—

Something cracked in the dark like a bone breaking. Erin whimpered. Drew back. Bumped the concrete wall behind her and heard a cat yowl in pain from her stepping on its tail. But there’s light now. A small green speck that hovers feet from her and was shaken into higher intensity by hands larger than Erin’s face.

Just as quickly as the darkness came it’s banished, but the monster didn’t go with it. No, it stood holding her only source of salvation, white mask tinted green in the shine of the glow stick between its fingers.

Run or stay? How often had those options become a part of her life? Run or stay. Erin can’t run. She’d never make it past the giant. The one reaching into what looked like a shabby cloak or oversized coat draped over shoulders wider than three feet. The one withdrawing something. The one dropping a piece of paper and an accompanying glowstick on the floor…?

Erin didn’t move. Only her eyes made the jump between the giant, the paper, the glow stick and back again.

The air grew stagnant and heavy with anticipation. Neither move until the giant pointed sharply at the paper at Erin’s feet.  _Read,_ the gesture said. That or it was a diversion so Erin would look away and it could attack….which the probability for was small. If it wanted to attack it would have done so in the dark.

If she craned her neck, Erin could make out scribbles on the page. Handwriting. Cramped handwriting, but in the green light, she was able to make out familiar letters. Specifically, letters that spelled out her name.

Snatching the paper and glow stick like this was a game of chicken, Erin scooted back, keeping the giant in her periphery. It didn’t move. Might as well have been a statue.

 _“Erin!”_ the note began. _“I’m a dingaling! I totally goofed and didn’t tell you when to meet me! My fault. Blame the concussion. If you’re reading this, you’ve met Goliath! Don’t worry, he’s harmless so long as you don’t mess with his cats or shine something bright in his face. I sent him to wait for you. He’ll send me word when you get here. Sorry again! See you soon!”_

Holtzmann signed her name at the end with a smiley face that looked like it was winking. Erin couldn’t be sure. Was the room getting bright? Or the air thin?

Tilting her head back, Erin exhaled a long breath and allowed her body to relax. Was this…an Underground envoy? What the actual fuck? Another bullet dodged. How many more heart attacks could a person nearly have and survive?

“Holtzmann sent you?” she asked skeptically, still not sure this wasn’t some type of trap. Maybe Gorin was finally coming through with her threat. Whatever the case, the giant—Goliath was it, and oh how original could someone get name-wise?—didn’t answer. Only stared through his impassive white mask as Erin slowly stood and dusted off her pants.

“Did Holtzmann send you?” she repeated a little louder, stretching her words out so she was sure he’d heard. Still no answer, so she tried another tactic. “Are you like her?” she pointed to her head. “Do you speak in other ways?”

Still silent.

“Maybe you sign?”

Still silent.

“Level with me here. I’m not exactly a pro at this. Are you mute? Do you even understand what I’m saying? Should I write it dow—“ Erin froze and felt the muscle giving her life do the same when a hand closed over her face, fingers flexing against her scalp just enough to give her an indication of implied threat. Her nose flattened against a rough palm, stunting her sudden, sharp intake of air.

“Okay, okay,” she squeaked, hands out and eyes squeezed shut. “I get it…no more questions. Just…take me to Holtzmann, please—oh no, where are we going!?”

Without removing his hand, Goliath began walking back the way Erin had come, dragging the smaller human with him. Erin had to stutter step a handful of times to keep from tripping, unable to see where she was being led. The sound of stone scraping against stone and the rumble of something heavy moving on a track gave her the impression a secret door was being opened. How had she not heard that before?

“I appreciate the—uh—guidance, but i-i-it’s not really necessary—oh okay, we’re going into the dark tunnel together. Yay.”

With the door sliding securely shut behind them, Goliath removed his hand and began walking along the long stretch of tunnel, taking his glow stick with him. Erin had no choice but to follow close on his heels, arms wrapped around her waist, lest she becomes lost in the dark labyrinth.

“Are you sure this is the way?” she called into the waiting echo. Unsurprisingly, no answer. Huffing and ducking her head, Erin hurried to catch up, keeping pace with the giant. It wasn’t that she was afraid of the dark. She wasn’t. But this dark was deadly and practically ensured if she strayed from her guide there would be no finding the surface again.

The first time Goliath’s wrench struck the fat pipe bolted to the wall Erin nearly flew out of her skin. The impact was so jarring in the dead silence they’d been walking in it made her ears ring and put her teeth on edge. Three more times the giant struck the pipe. Three more times Erin tucked into herself to combat the sound, wiggling a finger in her ear when it was over, sure she’d lost at least _some_ of her hearing.

“Is that how you communicate? With the pipes?” Why she found it necessary to drum her fingers against the smooth metal was beyond her, but it still elicited a silent response. Goliath didn’t slow or even indicate he’d heard, which was more than a little disconcerting. Even more so when Erin realized the back of his mask was identical to the front, giving the illusion he was watching her even with his back turned.

Time and distance were difficult to discern and meant little in the Underground. The two could have walked for miles or blocks, it wouldn’t have mattered. It all bled together. There were a few turns and one instance where Erin had to climb down a rusted ladder made up of bent rebar sunk into the wall—her silent companion merely jumped down the shaft, his feet striking the floor with an audible thud.

Eventually, the tunnels began to widen, the stone growing older and warmer in color, less concrete and more clay and granite. Three more times Goliath struck the pipes, but this time Erin was surprised by a faint response that kicked the butterflies in her stomach into action. Goliath grunted—a sound of affirmation—but never slowed.

After what felt like hours, the giant ushered Erin into a series of tunnels dimly lit with running strands of caged lightbulbs that reminded her of streetlights. The dirt floor sloped slightly until it turned into descending steps that broke into a fork. Goliath went left and so did Erin, down a few more plateaus and sharp turns until they came upon a roughly cut archway. Here the giant stopped and turned to face Erin.

“Is this my stop?” she tried to jest with a thin smile, shifting on the balls of her feet.

Still silent, Goliath continued to stare, the impassive, smooth white and red mask giving Erin the chills. Thankfully, she didn’t have to rephrase her question. He fractionally jerked his head towards the arch before walking away, footfalls nonexistent. He might as well have been a shadow.

Given no option to do otherwise, Erin hesitantly approached the archway and peeked around the corner, not sure what to expect. It certainly wasn’t her jaw hitting the floor. Nope.

The chamber beyond was three times larger than her apartment and domed. There was no telling what the original intention for this place had been during the tunnel’s construction, but it now held dozens upon dozens of wrought iron candle stands—some freestanding, others bolted to the walls— and clustered sitting areas made of reclaimed furniture and large pillows. Over countless hours of candle-burning had blackened the ceiling and left long stalactites of wax on the stands. Those same stands were currently lit, heating the room slightly and giving it an otherworldly appearance.

Stunned, Erin stood motionless in the doorway with her hands braced on the sides until she heard something shuffle. Gripping her pack straps a little tighter, she pushed away and entered with a faint, “Hello?” Her echo bounced back, the acoustics remarkably good.

“Holtz? I…um…I got your message. Sorry, I took so long getting here. I hope everything’s okay?” There was no answer, which made her more than a little concerned. She was meeting Holtzmann right? Abby or the Underground matron weren’t going to pop out of somewhere and ambush her? Erin squinted and chanced a look around, craning her neck as much as she could to see around bits of furniture and stands. Was someone standing behind a large cluster of candle stands?

“Holtz?”

_Wondering child so lost so helpless. Yearning for my guidance._

The voice made her jump and spin, eyes darting to the archway. No one was there. No one was anywhere. What the hell? That had been Holtzmann’s voice, she was sure of it, but it was almost singsong in nature and the tune…Erin knew that tune.

No. It couldn’t be.

A slow smile split her face that grew to show off her teeth. She knew that line and the ones that came after by heart because it was just a perfect coincidence Erin had a deep love for that particular Broadway. Deep love was putting it mildly. It was one of her all-time favorites since she was very, very young.

So it came as no surprise she answered as needed, still grinning. She’d play along.

“Angel or father? Friend or phantom? Who is in there, staring?” She didn’t sing it. Didn’t dare—not on account she couldn’t sing, Erin could, but she was nowhere near warmed up enough to carry a decent tune. “Angel, oh speak! What endless longings echo in this whisper?”

Teeth sinking into her bottom lip, Erin waited for the response, slowly edging further in to see if she could catch her elusive Underground friend.

 _Too long you've wandered in winter, far from my fathering gaze,_ the voice echoed back a little more firmly, playing along.

The DA was having a hard time pinning down where it was coming from, so she took a bold step closer to where she thought someone was standing, uncertainty forgotten. “Wildly my mind beats against you—“

_Yet your soul obeys!_

She didn’t know what she was expecting, but it wasn’t Holtzmann popping up beside her like a jack-in-the-box with a whirl of a—was that a cape? Erin understandably jumped and twisted away, but found herself bursting into helpless laughter when she saw the Undergrounder had, indeed, gotten into her role and wore not only a sharp black and red suit with her hair neatly styled up—where had she gotten that suit and why did seeing her in it make Erin’s stomach flip?—along with a customized Phantom mask.

“Did Halloween come early this year?” Erin couldn’t help but giggle, feeling the stress and anxiety plaguing her fall away like she was suddenly made of Teflon, replacing the tight coil with something far wetter and unstable in the absence of adrenaline.

 _With a face like this, every day is Halloween,_ Holtz teased with the biggest grin in the world. Catching the edge of her cape, she swept it over her face and turned dramatically so only the mask side was showing. _Will you sing for me, my angel?_ she crooned, and Erin expected Holtz was wiggling her eyebrows at her.

“If I say no, are you going to kidnap me and keep me prisoner in your lair?”

_There is…a chance._

“Ah, well then,” Erin chuckled, crossing her arms over her chest. “My answer is someday. Until then, you’ll just have to use your imagination.”

 _I think I can live with a maybe,_ Holtz beamed, dropping her cape. _I won’t go on a murderous rampage and try hanging your boyfriend with a maybe. I’m willing to compromise. Also, glad you came today._

Opening her arms for a hug, Erin surprised Holtz by closing the distance rather quickly and pulling her into a tight embrace. That…had not been expected, but Holtz would take this. Oh yeah, this was absolutely fine. She did, however, notice how Erin stopped from tucking into her shoulder, instead increasing the tightness of her squeeze. The small stutter gave her a worried pause.

"Thank you for asking me to come back, and I’m glad you’re okay,” Erin said into the space between them. The statement made Holtz’s frown deepen. Not because of the words. It was the inflection in Erin’s voice, the wobbling strain that made it seem like she expected Holtz to be anything _but_ fine.

_Still a bit tender under this blonde mop I call hair, but I’m fine. Gonna take more than a bat to bring me down. Are you…okay?_

Erin laughed—a little tearfully but she hid that well enough when she pulled away. “Fine. Just…getting down here was a trip. You’re messenger…”

_Yeah, should have sent a better warning. Goliath is kind of hardcore when you first meet him._

“Hardcore?” Erin echoed back, eyebrows raising. “He crushed my flashlight _in his hand!_ ”

Holtz winced, rocking back on her heels. S _orry about that. I’ll make you a new one. He’s not really partial to bright light._

“Or speaking.”

_Or speaking, yeah._

“Is he—“

_Mute? Yes and no. He can speak but just chooses not to._

“Ah,” Erin nodded, looking off into the chamber. “And the mask?”

Holtz shrugged helplessly. _You’ll have to ask him about that. Now come on! We don’t have much time._

The skin between the DA’s brows wrinkled. “Are you expecting someone?”

 _No, no! Just…something else. Come on! I think you’ll like what I have planned._ Taking the taller woman by the hand, Holtz excitedly led Erin further back into the chamber. Letting go and scuttling over—cape flapping behind her—Holtz motioned to an area she’d set up like she was presenting a prize on The Price is Right. _Madame, your reservation._

“A picnic?” Erin asked, genuinely surprised, waving at the candles and the mound of cushions. There was a red and white cooler next to the setup and a six pack of something beside that.

 _My version of a long apology for sneaking into your window and scaring the shit out of you. Also, a thank you for not killing me with your bat and nursing me back to relative health,_ Holtzmann grinned widely, hands planted on her hips in a gesture of pride.

“Is this an Undergrounder way of asking me to dinner?” Erin almost smacked herself in the face the moment the words left her mouth. What the actual hell?

Holtz, for her part, played it cool, raising her shoulders and bobbing her head in an indecisive gesture. Internally she was flailing like someone holding onto a greased rope. _Little tit-for-tat. You fed me, now I feed you._

“And the um…” Erin gestured with a helpless snicker at the Undergrounder’s attire. “Outfit? How did you know Phantom was my favorite?”

Now Holtzmann looked guilty, shuffling her feet sheepishly. _I might have noticed your signed playbill in your living room?_

Erin couldn’t keep back the warm feeling spreading through her limbs as she took a seat and discarded her backpack for the moment. No one had gone through so much trouble for her in the past. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

 _I know, but it seemed the right thing to do…_ Holtz swallowed before jumping into action. _I still have one more surprise. I just need to…_ She held up a finger, listening for something. After a moment, she shifted a step to the right and looked up at the ceiling, concentrating. _Oh good! Just about ready!_

“For?”

The blonde’s grin was infectious and a little frightening. _Watch and listen. Well, more like listen._

Taking her word for it, Erin did just that. The chamber fell into comfortable silence for a handful of minutes until Holtzmann checked her watch, went to a lever on the wall, and turned it squeakily before returning to her seat, practically vibrating with excitement. Erin squinted at her, suspicious, when she thought she heard what sounded like murmuring. Listening harder, she made out a few lines.

_“…with a little illumination. Gentlemen!”_

That couldn’t be right. They were floors underground. It must be the pipes or—

When the first chords blasted through the chamber the brunette came out of her seat in a rush. That was an organ! A pipe organ! Where? How? What was—and then she recognized the notes for what they were because only one pipe organ on earth played that melody.

“How is this possible?” she had to almost shout, eyes huge and round. “Is this a recording?”

 _Nope!_ Holtz beamed. _You are listening to the live performance taking place above us. Welcome to the Chamber of Echoes! The only place in the Underground where you can hear almost any Broadway if you know which valve to turn! Tonight’s venue, Phantom of the Opera!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone, meet Goliath. The Underground's personal messenger (not really). Also, would this qualify as a first date? Who knows! Let's give these two some fluff for once! Holtz romping around in Phantom gear is my newest aesthetic. More of that to come, to be sure!
> 
> Reviews help me know what you think and how I'm doing. Please and thank you!


	20. Chapter 20

This was incredible. Beyond that. This could qualify as a religious experience because here Erin stood in a domed chamber lit by candle light with beautiful acoustics listening to Phantom of the Opera echo around her like the spirit of God itself. The grin on her face physically hurt and only grew when she realized she could hear the actors speaking—if not muffled at times.

“How did you discover something like this?” she laughed, turning in a tight circle, eyes on the ceiling.

 _Totally by accident! Let’s just say there was a lot of screaming, a dislocated shoulder, and grease involved. One day, I’ll tell you the whole story, but for now…food and Phantom!_ Holtzmann kicked open the cooler and withdrew two hearty sandwiches, different finger foods, a few slices of cold pizza, and bags of sweets, arranging them on a cushion between the two. _The lady gets first choice!_

Erin happy chose her meal, and together they sat back, listening to the drama play out in real time while they ate. Holtz knew all the lines and songs by heart, matching Erin stride for stride. They would lip sync along with the actors, gesturing wildly and making exaggerated faces at one another. Holtzmann even got Erin to sing a little but when asked to reciprocated had to sadly shake her head.

_Can’t sing. For whatever reason, when I try, I just sound like the actors. Probably on account when you try to sing in your head you sound like the singer and not yourself. You don’t actually know what you sound like! Science is so cool!_

To make up for this, more than once the two “acted out” scenes as best they could—or as Holtz expected they were performed on account she’d never actually _seen_ the Broadway. Erin didn’t mind the alterations, laughing and playing along, forgetting everything that had happened earlier in the day and what had initially driven her into the Underground. Sometimes she was Christine and Holtz was Phantom. Sometimes Holtz was Carlotta and left Erin wheezing on the floor with laughter as she acted out the diva's more memorable scenes.

They became so caught up in their own mock production and roles—both pinging off the other—they didn’t realize they were dancing quite closely to “All I Ask of You”. Nervous laughter and red faces shared by both, Erin and Holtz opted to sit that one out and pick at their meal a little more.

At intermission, Holtz took a flying leap off the nearest chair into a pile of cushions, imitating Phantom’s ride down the chandelier, and rolled breathlessly onto her back next to Erin’s leg.

“That was very dramatic.”

_It’s a dramatic scene!_

“You should see it on stage. He actually rides the chandelier down onto the stage. I loved watching first-timers scream thinking it was going to come down on their head.”

_How many times have you see it?_

“Must be a dozen by this point. I saw it the first time when I was…umm…eight? I think? My mother took me, and I fell in love with the music.”

 _Mother read me the original story years ago. I didn’t even know there was a stage play until Abby let me listen to some of her old cassette tapes with Sarah Brightman as Christine._ Holtz put her hands over her heart and mimed being hit by something. _Love at first song._

“I got to see one of her last performances,” Erin smiled.

 _You suck!_ Holtz gaped. _You suck so much! I’d have killed to see that!_

“Maybe someday you’ll get a chance to see it live.”

 _Little miracles sometimes happen,_ Holtz Whined.

Intermission came to a close and again they were going through the motions, acting out scenes and playing along. It was fun. It took Erin out of her current headspace and deposited her someplace far more forgiving and far safer. She lost herself to the play and her company.

Sitting to catch her breath after the last few scenes, Erin watched Holtz stomp around the room reciting dialogue, playing multiple people at once. It was both amusing and captivating watching her drop every ounce of guard she might carry and just become one with the play. She seemed so happy. So carefree. Her smile was positively magnetic, pulling at something deep in Erin’s chest.

Eventually, the Undergrounder flopped down too, panting and grinning. _I love the buildup to the end._

“So do I.”

They listened for a time as the play edged closer to its climax. “Wishing You Were Here Again” drifted through the chamber, filling it with mournful notes. It was one of Holtz’s favorite songs. She didn’t know why. Nothing in her life mirrored this scene, but the music still stirred something in her. She hummed along until the sound of a hard sniff pulled Holtz’s attention away from the ceiling, and she jumped into frantic action when she realized Erin was tearing up beside her.

“No, no, I’m fine,” the older woman reassured, palming away the moisture gathering under her eyes and giving her friend a faint smile. “This song just…brings a lot of things back. It used to be my mother’s favorite. She would sing it under her breath a lot when I was a kid. It always makes me think of her.”

 _Would?_ Holtz ventured quietly, feeling the creep of awkwardness set into her limbs.

“My mother died when I was twelve,” Erin exhaled, leaning forward and hugging her knees. “She had a heart attack. My...father found her. I remember being called down to the school office and my uncle was there. I think that's the only time I've ever seen my father cry.”

_I’m so sorry._

“It was a long time ago,” Erin shrugged faintly. Time had done its job and diminished the pain, but there were moments where the old ache would come back. Moments like these.

_What…um…what was she like?_

“My mother?” Holtz nodded, unable to maintain eye contact. “She was the foundation to my family, to be honest. She and my father were quite a pair, and by that I mean they were opposites in all things. My mother grounded him. She was a teacher for a number of years. Taught at Columbia in the History department until she had me. She was lively and loved to sing. I remember her telling me she’d dreamed of going to Broadway one day, but her career lay in academia. Singing was her passion though, and Phantom was her favorite.

“My father wasn’t very fond of the whole having children thing. I think he went along with it to make my mother happy, but he was disappointed when she forwent her career to have me and then didn’t go back to teaching when I was old enough to go into school. My father and I…we don’t necessarily see eye-to-eye on a lot of things. I think I remind him too much of what he lost. After she died, we more or less parted ways. And that’s how it’s been ever since. I have a father in name only. My uncle stepped up to help raise me. He’s the one who pushed me to go into law. It wasn’t my first choice, but he said I had the heart for it. I guess he was right.” Erin finished, spreading her hands.

_I didn’t mean to bring up painful memories. I’m sorry._

“You’re fine, Holtz. I’ve learned to cope. It was hard in the beginning. Being twelve and losing your mother. I used to spend so much time at her grave. It wasn’t the healthiest thing and it made my father so angry when he had to track me down and found me there, but it was the only way I could get over losing her. I’d sit at her grave and sing “Wishing You Were Here Again”. I did that for a full year until—“

Erin stopped mid-sentence, biting her bottom lip and picking at her cuticles. Holtz could tell she was wrestling to say something and remained quiet, feeling she’d already over reached tonight. 

“I’ve…not told anyone this other than my father, but I…used to see her after she died. For a year after she died, to be exact.” Erin stopped to look at Holtzmann, gauging what she saw there before continuing. “I’m sure there’s a rational way to explain it, and I’ve been through enough therapy to vouch for that, but for a year after my mother died, I saw her standing at the foot of my bed. Sometimes, she would sing to me while I cried. It was usually something from Phantom. Sometimes, I’d feel the bed depress and she’d just sit there until morning. I have no explanation for any of this and I know I must sound crazy but…”

 _You don’t sound crazy,_ Holtz said, and there wasn’t a hint of jest anywhere on her body, Erin noted.

“You believe in ghosts?”

_That’s a bit of a gray area for me. I believe there are things in this world you can’t understand. Case in point, me. So if you tell me you saw your mother after she died then I believe you did._

“Thanks.”

_Though if she shows up again, we might have to call the Ghostbusters._

“We are not wrapping my mother’s ghost in proton streams and dragging her into a containment unit.”

_Dude, the fact you are a secret nerd is like Christmas morning to me. I don’t know what else I’m going to unwrap!_

Erin laughed, which had been the point of Holtzmann’s joke. She realized she hated seeing Erin sad.

They didn’t talk for the rest of the performance, which had continued without them, simply listening to the music. At the end, when the applause died down and the room again fell into silence, Holtzmann finally spoke up.

 _I didn’t start speaking until the age of five._ The statement gave Erin pause, making her turn with a questioning expression. Holtz shrugged lightly, fighting a flush. _You shared a little bit about yourself, so I thought I’d share something about me. It’s only fair._

“Oh,” Erin blinking to process, surprised. “Speaking like you’re speaking now?”

Holtz nodded, self-consciously picking at her vest. _Mother said I was developmentally behind for years. I was almost completely nonverbal. Probably because of the knock to the head as a baby. Abby was the one who taught me sign language. She taught Mother and I both. Then, when I was five, something just clicked in my mind. Literally. Something clicked and I could speak to Mother through this weird mental connection._ Holtzmann smiled to herself, thinking of fond memories. _Mother cried. I distinctly remember her breaking down into tears. I thought I’d done something wrong, but she just kept hugging me. Abby cried too. Lots of crying that day._

“Do you know how you’re doing it? The speaking with your mind thing?” Erin made a vague gesture at her head and wiggled her fingers.

 _No idea. I mean, it’s shouldn’t be possible, right? Telepathy belongs to the X-Men. I’m just a tunnel rat with a weird face._ Leaning back on the cushion mound at her back, Holtz looked at the ceiling, a sad smile turning her lips. _Always liked the line in Phantom,_ ‘ _Why, you ask, was I bound and chained to the cold and dismal place? Not by any mortal sin, but the wickedness of my abhorrent face!’. Kind of fits me, you know? Living down here. Kidnapping pretty girls and bringing them to my lair. My killer fashion sense._

Why was there a flash of sorrow clouding Erin’s eyes, and why did it make Holtzmann falter? “Your face isn’t wicked or abhorrent, Holtz.”

_Says the woman who screamed so hard when she first saw me she fell out of bed and popped her stitches and almost crawled up a wall the second time. I know what I look like, Erin._

“Now wait, that's not fair,” Erin frowned. “I wasn’t exactly at my best that first day. Waking up after being beaten into unconsciousness and stabbed kind of leaves your nerves fried. And I’ve already apologized for the second time.”

Holtzmann winced and looked away, cheeks heating. It had been a stupid thing to say. _You’re right. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking._

She hadn’t been thinking, and she also wasn’t expecting a kind hand to alight on her shoulder or to be gently turned around after a stretch of silence. She certainly didn’t expect to see something deeper than an apology on the DA’s face. What was it? This heavier emotion making the blue of Erin’s eyes stand out, that made Holtzmann swallow and her pulse race? Did they both feel it?

Holtzmann flinched when Erin’s hand hesitantly alighted on her cheek, thumb smoothing the skin beside her wide, strangely shapes nose. The other swept away a few errant strands of blonde hair that had slipped free.

“‘This haunted face holds no horror for me now,’” Erin gently sang, her smile kind and soft.

_It’s in your soul where the true—_

“Don’t you dare finish that line,” Erin warned, exhaling sharply through her nose. “I’m not afraid of you, Holtzmann. I might have been in the beginning, but I shouldn’t have been.”

_I know what I look like._

Erin shook her head. “Not an excuse. You’re not a monster. Phantom chose to become a beast because he thought no one would love him. He hid his face out of shame. You don’t do either of those things. You have people who love you. You’re not a monster. You’re you. A little different, but beautiful all the same.”

Had Erin just said that? Both women seemed taken aback, the older of the two leaning back to give them space while Holtz struggled to process why the room was growing bright and her heart felt like it was about to plow out of her chest like those alien chestbuster things.

“Why do you go by Holtzmann, anyway?” Erin eventually asked in a slightly squeaky voice, changing topics. “I’ve heard your mother and Abby call you Jillian. Is Holtzmann your last name?”

_It’s my middle name. My first name is Jillian, but only Mother calls me that. Abby uses it when I’m in trouble. I don’t go by Mother’s last name because she uses it around the Underground, so it would be confusing to have two Gorins running around._

Erin nodded, digesting this and filing it away. “So you’re mother’s last name is Gorin. Is Abby just Abby? She’s your aunt, right?”

_By name only. She’s not related to my mother, but they’ve been friends for years. Since before I came along, I know that._

“God, it’s a lot later than I thought,” Erin sighed, catching sight of her watch. She’d completely lost track of time. It was well past midnight, and she needed to be up no later than six.

 _You could…you know…always stay the night? Until the sun comes up, I mean! Cause it’s late and a long walk back…_ Holtz fidgeted, knowing what her offer might sound like to the wrong ears, but a hopeful part of her wanted Erin to say yes.

“Stay the night, huh?” The DA’s grin was as teasing as it was playful. “Would we sleep right here? Curled atop these cushions like subterranean cats?”

_N-no. I have a bed._

“Oh, so a shared bed then?” Now Erin just looked wicked, propping her chin on her palm. “Pushing the envelope there, Miss Holtzmann? I’m not the kind of girl who sleeps over on the first date.”

Holtzmann could have choked. She thought she did. Or was that sucking sensation her eyeballs popping out of their sockets? Either way, she looked like a fish out of water, opening and closing her mouth, mind gone numb.

_I—I—I didn’t mean…uh…i-it was a thought? Not like that! Um, I—heh y-you see I was just offering—_

Holtz’s frantic attempt at an explanation died when Erin burst into laughter she barely capped with her hand, still managing to snort behind the digits.

“I’m sorry,” she wheezed. “That was mean, I shouldn’t tease like that. You’re fine, I know exactly what you were asking. No stop, don’t roll away!” Erin reached out and attempted to catch Holtz before she rolled completely off their shared mound of comfort, opting to lay face down on the concrete. She went a step further and covered her head with her cape.

_I’m just going to stay right here until I expire. Watch me become one with the stone._

“Come back here, you dork,” Erin said, attempting and failing to pull Holtz back. “I can’t stay. I’d love to, but I have work in the morning, and I already lost hours today, so I need to make that up tomorrow.”

_Why’d you lose hours?_

It was an innocent question, but suddenly Erin wished she’d never said anything about it because everything she’d shoved onto the back burner since arriving in the Underground came rushing back with all the gentility of an avalanche, leaving her feeling cold and suffocating. Try as she might, she couldn’t shake the feeling.

 “It’s not important.

_Then stay._

“I can’t. I left early yesterday because of a case. I can’t do the same tomorrow. I’m sorry.”

It was the way Erin said it that had Holtz lifting her head, eyes narrowed. What she found was confusing and worrying. Erin looked scared. Seconds ago she’d been laughing and joking, but now she was pale. Holtz sat up, alert. _Erin? What’s wrong?_

“I…” Erin began haltingly, hating the war taking place in her gut and the queasy feeling it awoke. She shouldn’t talk about it. Legally, she wasn’t permitted to, but Holtzmann operated in a weird limbo, not in society but not out. So she could, technically, but she didn’t want to. Didn’t want to think about the autopsy photo or the woman on the slab and what had happened to her. Then why was she speaking, eyes squeezed shut, letting the words fall from her lips like oozing infection? “The men who attacked me found the woman they’d originally been looking for.”

Holtzmann froze, the words sinking in like someone slowly slipping a knife into her ribs. _I thought you said they were long gone._

Erin took a breath, realizing she’d been caught in her white lie and feeling like quicksand was sucking at her feet. “The men who abducted me worked for a mob boss named Falconi. Thugs like that are hired hands. There was…a good chance they would have left the city after dumping me, but there was a better chance they’d stay close to Falconi.”

_So you lied to me._

The accusation wasn’t sharp, but it hurt nonetheless. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to worry when I went back up, and honestly? I was naïve enough to think with me basically returning from the dead the men would run for the hills. They didn’t. They killed a woman named Debora Jane, the original mark they mistook me for, and it’s my fault.”

She didn’t intend for the last word to crack in her throat or her lower lip to tremble, but holding back the dam of emotions was becoming a task better suited for Atlas.

“It’s my fault, Holtz. I didn’t push the detective overseeing my case hard enough to get their descriptions to the public or to put pressure on Falconi. I relied on hope rather than proven judicial practices and someone died because of it.”

She was crying in earnest now, long bands of silvery tears cutting paths down her cheeks.

“I’m a DA. I’m supposed to uphold the law and bring criminals to justice but because I was a coward a woman was stabbed to death and dumped in the East River.” 

It was too much, this burden. Six months ago something like this wouldn’t have shaken her so badly. But six months ago she hadn’t been the target of an assassination.

Knees drawing up, Erin hid her face from the world, but every time she closed her eyes Debora Jane was there. No, it wasn’t Debora. It was Erin looking down at herself. Dead on a morticians slab. Chest cut open for examination. Autopsy report hanging off the end of the table, highlighting all the stab wounds, the trauma, the abuse. 

“It could have been me,” she cried, right hand fisting the front of her shirt to the point her knuckles popped white, curling so tightly into herself it was a wonder gravity didn’t increase. “It should have been me. It _was_ me. She looked just like me!”

 _Erin, stop. Stop, stop, stop,_ Holtz soothed, circling around in front of her quickly panicking friend and taking her by the shoulders, Erin’s flushed cheeks burning against her palms when she finally looked up. _Look at me. You’re safe. You’re in the Underground. I’m right in front of you, and I won’t let anything hurt you._

“Why did you save me?” Erin knew where the question was coming from—survivor's guilt—but couldn’t stop herself. “Why am I alive and she’s not?”

_Because there wasn’t a choice between saving you and letting you die. I wasn’t going to leave you in the snow. I wouldn’t have left anyone, regardless of who they were. I’m sure there are a lot of smart people who could tell us exactly why we were both in the park that night. Fate comes to mind. Or maybe it was just happenstance. Maybe it was dumb luck, but whatever the reason, you lived, and I believe it was for a higher purpose._

“One life isn’t above another.”

_I don’t believe that. I believe there are those of us put on this planet to do things the greater majority can’t. I can’t speak for Debora Jane. I don’t know her, but I know you, and I know you are one of the rare few who will rattle the world._

“How do you know?” Erin whispered, allowing herself to lean against Holtzmann. Her close proximity and the fingers being threaded through her hair was helping quiet the episode.

_Because you defied the odds and lived. You went back Topside and faced your fears. Because you look at me and see a person despite everything I was taught about your people saying otherwise._

“I’m just one person. Realistically, one person doesn’t tip the scale.

_No, but one person can influence a dozen or a hundred or a thousand._

With nothing more to say, Erin merely nodded. She couldn’t stop Debora Jane’s face from popping up behind her eyelids and likely wouldn’t for a long time. Maybe she should take Patty up on her offer of finding help for women who were victims of assault. Erin certainly couldn’t live her life going from one breakdown to another like some form of masochistic leap frog. She needed help, but finding it…that was going to be a hard pill to swallow, but the first step in always started with understanding. Erin understood she needed help.

At some point, she began to drift off without knowing, lulled into a peaceful limbo by Holtzmann's gentle touch, her familiar smell, and the quiet in the room. Erin jerked back into consciousness on her own sometime later, slightly embarrassed she was still in Holtzmann’s arms. “I should probably get home.”

_It’s late. The tunnels aren’t the safest at this time of night, especially in the upper decks. Abby wasn’t kidding about gangs. Why don’t you sleep for a bit?_

“I have—“

_Work in the morning, I know. It’s okay. I’ve got an eye on the time. Sleep for a little while, and I’ll wake you up with enough time to get back home for work. Promise._

Erin’s skepticism wasn’t hard to miss, but exhaustion seemed to be winning over reason. “What about you? Don’t you need sleep?”

_You are talking to the girl who once stayed awake for a solid week on a dare. You are also talking to a rampant insomniac. Don’t worry. I’ll sleep like the bat I am all day tomorrow._

“What if someone comes in? I don’t want your aunt freaking out again. And I certainly don’t want to face your mother.”

 _No one comes down here this late. We’ve got these tunnels to ourselves,_ Holtz reassured with a kind smile. Letting Erin go, she shifted away to give the older woman room to decide what she wanted to do.

Eventually, Erin nodded her agreement about staying, saying it was probably better than trying to walk home in the dark, even with Holtz dropping her close to her apartment.

Curling on her side against the cushions, it didn’t take long for her to drift into a peaceful state of rest under a blanket Holtz retrieved from somewhere in the chamber. If Erin was being honest, this was the most relaxed she’d felt in weeks. Beside her, Holtz removed her vest and cape, stripping into her more comfortable under clothes, humming bars from Phantom and watching her friend sleep, counting the minutes until she would have to say goodbye again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did end where you thought it would, did it? ;) Ah, Erin, you poor thing. I can't leave you alone in any verse xD So the first date ended with a sleepover of sorts? Hmmm? Interesting turn of events. Little backstory here. Little peek. Obviously more to come, but for now happy fluff and sleeping babies!
> 
> Reviews literally help me write faster and let me know how I'm doing. Please don't be shy!


	21. Chapter 21

“What you got there?”

Holtz very nearly put the hobby knife she was using through the meat of her left hand when she jumped at the sudden voice behind her. _Jesus, Abby!_ _What the hell?_

“I could ask you the same thing,” the blind woman snorted, taking a seat in the bean bag next to the workbench Holtz was currently crouched over. “I’ve been tapping for you for like an hour.”

 _You have?_ Holtz looked around at the pipes. As usual, there was a fair amount of chatter going back and forth, but none that caught her immediate attention. Odd, she was usually better about listening.

“Yeah,” Abby said, reclining into the crinkly beans. “So what’s got you by the balls this time? You usually don’t ignore people unless you’re head’s buried in something important.”

 _New project,_ the blonde muttered, turning back to her work. Out of her periphery, she watched Abby crane her neck until she could see the table top, tapping the handle of her cane against the metal as she did.

“Looks kind of small,” she commented, wrinkling her nose. “Is that a tiny music box?”

Holtz protectively hunched around the pieces of particle board, scowling over at the shorter woman. _I hate that you can do that._

“What? That I can put Dare Devil to shame? Or that my vision works like your vocals?” Abby laughed, settling back with a knowing smirk. It was true, in a way. She might have been deemed medically blind, but Abby learned long ago her sight hadn’t been completely robbed from her. She still possessed ways to see, similar to how bats navigate through winding cave tunnels. Any level of sound could paint a picture for the Undergrounder, but the louder the better. Hence why her white cane was aluminum rather than fiberglass. Made tapping and navigation easier.

 _It’s nothing. Just something new to work on_ , Holtz stated, feeling strangely defensive. This wasn’t just any project. This was something special. Something personal.

“Erin give you that last night in the Echoes?”

Holtzmann did a marvelous impression of an opossum being caught in a flashlight beam, freezing on the spot. _Why would you—_

“Goliath told me.”

 _That gossipy little bitch!_ Holtz gasped, feigning anger. Well, partially. Goliath wasn’t one to talk…normally. With Holtz, yes. The giant uttered a few syllables every so many weeks, but Abby? Holtz didn’t know the two were necessarily on speaking terms. Then again, Goliath had been a constant in Holtzmann’s life since the beginning. According to Abby and some of the other Undergrounders who weren’t petrified of him, “Goliath always has and always will be.”.

“So when were you gonna cave and spill to me that you’ve been secretly seeing your Topside friend?”

 _I’ve not been seeing her secretly,_ Holtz pouted, poking at the tools on her workbench.

“Explain last night.”

She tried to keep the memory to herself even under Abby’s scrutiny, careful not to reveal more than she wanted the blind woman to know. Internally, however, she was free to let the battle armor butterflies rage inside her chest cavity.

She’d woken Erin a little before the DA mentioned her alarm usually rang and helped her back through the tunnels. They used the location closet to Erin’s apartment in the basement of the storage office, the same one Holtz and Abby used a few days prior. Groggy and tired though she was, Erin wrapped Holtzmann in a tight hug, thanking her for the wonderful evening.

“Your Chamber of Echoes is enchanting. Thank you for showing it to me.”

_Thank you for sharing your Phantom nerdiness with me. I had a wonderful time re-enacting the play with you._

“Same,” Erin smiled shyly. The two shared a quiet moment before the older woman remembered something. “I forgot to give you this,” she said a little hesitantly, setting her pack at her feet and quickly rifling through its contents. The heavy shadows did a wonderful job of hiding the radiating warmth creeping up her neck and heating her cheeks. Erin withdrew a small wrapped bundle and placed it in Holtzmann’s hands, the Undergrounder’s surprise clearly evident as she looked between the bundle and the DA.

“It’s a...um, a thank you for, well, for really everything. I know you said I didn’t have to repay you or your family for what you did for me, but I feel I should. It’s how I was raised. I hope you don’t mind?”

Erin was rambling and tried her best to keep the shake from her voice. Really, she was better at this, but something about giving the Undergrounder a gift made her palms sweat. If she was being honest—which Erin was in the safe solitude of her mind—everything about Holtzmann made her calm demeanor slip into something more akin to her awkward college years. Which was always a fun trip down memory lane, oh yes. Particularly groan-worthy stuff there.

“Umm…so yeah, ah, I’ll see you again soon? Oh, and don’t open it until you get back home, okay?”

Flabbergasted at the gesture—no Topsider ever gave her gifts—Holtzmann forgot how to properly articulate for a frustrating period of time, and was only kicked into gear when Erin began to pull away. Suddenly feeling as though her silence had been misinterpreted as displeasure, Holtzmann caught Erin’s hand before she slipped up the stairs.

The connection lit her on fire. It was a wonder the shadows weren’t banished by the radiating heat burning between them. A simple moment occurred, two beings suspended by the connection of flesh and fingers. Holtzmann made the first move but wasn’t exactly sure how to follow through. None of this terrain was familiar. It was now or never. Nerves be damned. Stepping close, Holtz darted in and planted a soft kiss against Erin’s cheek before skipping back like she was waiting to feel a slap skip across her cheek.

“Thank you,” she hastily mumbled, letting the older woman’s hand drop and practically _skittering_ into the seclusion of the tunnels. Could Erin hear the echo of her heartbeat? Holtz could. It boomed around her like someone beating a kettle drum. In her embarrassed haste to flee, she missed the stunned look on Erin’s face and how her fingers drifted up to touch the warm patch where Holtzmann’s lips had been, feeling for all the world like the air had been sucked out of the room.

 _Is it a crime to want to see a friend?_ Holtz asked, eyes still on her work though she didn’t move to pick up any tools.

“You know what my answer’s gonna be,” Abby said, eyeing her niece.

 _I care about her, Abby._ The admission was small, spoken with careful delicacy like too much emphasis put into it would shatter the words. Was that what this was? This feeling that overwhelmed her every time Erin came to mind?

“You care about her like you care about Goliath’s cats,” Abby sighed, tilting her head back. From her stool, Holtz slowly turned, metal squeaking.

_You think this all comes down to attention and infatuation?_

“I think this is something new and exciting for you, Jillian.” Abby’s tone wasn’t sharp but it carried a heaviness to it, a seriousness weighing down the words. “I think you’ve found something interesting with Erin, and while that’s all right in the short term, nothing long term can happen. She’s not one of us. She doesn’t belong in our world. I’m not going to be like your mother and demand you not see her anymore. I know that’s about as helpful as putting fire out with gasoline, but you need to be careful.”

 _Give me a better reason than what you’ve fed me my entire life,_ Holtzmann challenged, demeanor as serious as Abby’s. _Give me a better reason than she’s not part of our world and I’ll stop seeing her immediately, no questions asked._

From her seat, Abby stilled, milky eyes meeting Holtzmann’s blue ones. “I figured common sense was enough of a deterrent.”

_No, because there’s nothing about your warning that makes sense. We have people Topside who helps us daily. People we’ve entrusted our existence to who have kept our secrets. Why is Erin different from them? Because she’s higher profile? Because she comes from money? Or is it because she intrigues me, and you and mother are desperate to keep me locked down here like a prisoner?_

“There are things Topside you won’t understand, Jill. There are reasons why so many people have fled into the Underground. Topside looks glamorous and fun, but it’s not. Not for someone like you or someone like me. To them, we’re freaks. To them, you’d be a science experiment or a sideshow attraction. Down here, you’re safe and accepted. Is it so terrible your mother and I just want you safe?

 _I’m not ignorant, Abby,_ Holtz said, pushing the goggles she’d been looking through into her hairline and rubbing her forehead. _I’ve grown up listening to the stories about Topside. Yes, I know what I look like and how someone like me would be treated, but you seem to think I want to live there. I never said that. I just want to know it as well as I know the Underground. Like it or not, Topside resides on the same earth as the Underground._

Sensing the conversation was going to turn circular, Abby clambered to her feet and shuffled over to Holtzmann, planting a kiss atop her head. “Don’t want to fight with you tonight, pup. Just be careful is all I’m trying to say.”

Holtzmann dipped her head in acceptance. _I know you two care, but sometimes it feels like there’s a noose around my neck._

“With a face like yours, it’d be more accurate to say collar.” Abby wasn’t fast enough to dodge the smack Holtz skipped across her arm, earning a sharp yelp. “Damn, you’re stronger than you look. Ow! I see what I get for trying to lighten the mood.”

 _I love you too,_ the blonde smirked.

“Yeah, whatever, I see how it is. Just don’t let your mother catch you two, yeah? I’m the fun aunt. I let you get away with everything. You mother would skin you alive.”

_Good thing I’m an expert at disappearing when the going gets tough._

“Funny, funny. Have fun, Holtz. Gonna track down your mother and berate her for redirecting the cistern flows. Can’t take a damn shower in gray water!”

_Want me to look into it?_

“No, you’re fine. This was her fault. See you later.” Waving over her shoulder, Abby left the Undergrounder to her project, choosing a well-worn path that would have taken her to Gorin’s room had she no redirected herself out of Holtzmann’s home and into the main hall that ran like a wide corridor down the length of the Underground.

Cane tapping to give her a clear picture of what was in her direct path, Abby followed the shallow incline, passing nooks providing family housing in this quadrant. Doors weren’t a necessity in the Underground. There was no need, for the most part. The community was tight knit enough—and the prerequisites to enter even tighter—the risk of theft was low. Those who had doors rarely saw use for them, save for Gorin. The woman had always been private, and with her status as Matron, it granted her subtle privileges. But there was one other dwelling that did have a door in regular use. Taft, the Underground’s resident doctor and surgeon, preferred to keep his home locked out of professional habit.

“Doctor patient confidentiality,” he would claim. It was towards that door Abby approached, shouldering it open without knocking because she was expected.

The dwelling was neatly kept, as one would expect from a physician. The cold stone floor was covered in rugs. Bookshelves lined the walls much like in Gorin’s home, only there were less of them here. A radio hummed on a low shelf, the signal pirated through a series of ingenious devices courtesy of Holtzmann.

Through the quaint sitting area—vaguely reminiscent of an actual doctor’s waiting room—there were three rooms carved into the back of the antechamber. One was Taft’s personal quarters. One was his examination room. And the third was his own personal lab. It was towards the second room Abby moved, already picking up on the sound of soft conversation.

“Coming in,” Abby announced, tapping her cane against the wooden doorframe so she could see the room beyond.

“What are you doing here?” Gorin startled from where she was seated on the makeshift examination table.

“I invited her here,” Taft replied clinically, wrapping his knuckles on the metal table next to him so Aby could see where he was, offering a nod as greeting.

“For what reason?”

“Because you have a tendency to sugarcoat things for my benefit, and I have a right to know how things are progressing,” Abby replied, turning her full attention onto Gorin. She raised a hand, already sensing the rebuttal to come. “And before you start with the same old bullshit that this is a personal matter, you should know by now we’re as close to family as family is going to get. If you value the relationship we have, you won’t pitch a fit about this.”

Gorin’s glower was sharp enough to cut. She looked for all the world like a gargoyle hunched on a parapet. “I do not appreciate or condone my medical condition being broadcasted. It’s sensitive enough as is—“

“Cut the shit, Gorin,” Abby snapped, folding her cane and settling back. “You know as well as I do only the three of us know. And you also know my standing on _that_ matter. So let’s put this pointless struggle behind us. Be straight with me for once instead of me having to wheedle information out of Taft. I want to know what’s happening to the second mother in my life and not find out secondhand.”

Gorin promptly shut her mouth with an audible click, sensing she had been boxed in. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she let out a long sigh and waved Taft on. “Since the two of you seem to have already conspired against me, I have no choice but to concede.”

“How gracious.” Abby rolled her eyes.

“Unfortunately,” Taft said, clearing his throat to bring the conversation back to the topic at hand, “it’s safe to say your condition is deteriorating.”

“We knew this was coming,” Gorin reasoned, sitting up straighter and folding her hands in her lap.

“Yes, we did. The disease progresses much faster with the onset of age, but with you experiencing increased tremors and deteriorating mobility, I’m beginning to suspect you are entering into some of the final stages.”

Abby didn’t need perfectly working eyes to see the shock flicker across Gorin’s face. She could practically feel it, her own joining in. So soon? They thought there was more time.

“What can we do?” Abby asked before Gorin could, giving the older woman time to digest the news.

Taft sat back and settled one leg over the opposite knee. “Increasing your medication dosage will help slow the progression, but getting what is needed will be…tricky, to say the least.”

“We have Helpers in the pharmaceutical circuit. It won’t be impossible,” Abby surmised, tapping the handle of her cane against her chin while ignoring the queasy feeling nesting in the lower pit of her stomach.

“No, but it could very well increase scrutiny on those we have planted Topside,” Gorin intoned, looking up. For a brief moment the expression in her cool eyes was one of anger and pain, but it was short lived. It had to be. She didn’t have the luxury of dwelling on the inevitable. Not when there was still so much to do and so many to care for, her daughter paramount on the list. When Gorin turned to Abby, she was once again a stone pillar. “We can’t risk drawing from the same supplier.”

“What do you suggest then? We only have the one, and you need more medication.”

“I can continue with the dosage I’m taking now.”

“Like hell you will!” Abby growled.

Gorin arched an eyebrow. “Do you assume to tell me how I will combat my own illness?”

“No, but I _will_ tell you you’re not going to be a fucking martyr about this. Not when we have the capabilities to get the medicine you need.”

“And if it draws attention to us? What then? What will we do if our supplier is jailed for taking more than necessary when we can very easily continue with the dosage I’m consuming now and seek other remedies.”

Abby bit into her bottom lip, hands twisting around the handle of the cane. Gorin had a point. One she couldn’t very well argue.

“There are…supplements that I can acquire,” Taft said, sending out the statement like a fishing line. The bait seemed to work. He had both Abby and Gorin’s attention. “I am not keen on the idea, let’s be clear. This substance hasn’t been tested, medically, but I have heard it has been beneficial to patients with your unique ailment in the past.”

“We talking drugs?” Abby frowned.

“Medicinal herbs is a better term for it, but yes.”

“So pot? Seriously?”

Taft spread his hands. Ever the scientist, he was incapable to drawing such harsh conclusions, but the science was still in its infancy. “It has had success in the past and is worth a shot. At this point, what is there to lose?”

“I’m willing to try what you suggest,” Gorin declared, sliding down from the examination table and snatching up her lab coat from the hook by the door.

“Gorin,” Taft called, stilling the woman. “I need to make something else clear. If you do not increase your medication, you will begin to show signs of your illness, and it will progress faster than we can counter. This herbal fix is temporary at best. You cannot go without the proper dosage of medication for much longer if you want the Underground and your daughter to remain ignorant. I will also remind you, I will not lie to Jillian if she comes to me worried. She is your daughter and legal next of kin. She deserves to know. If she asks, I will tell.”

Gorin briefly glanced at the man over her shoulder before walking out of the room. Abby rose and followed, offering a hurried thank you and reassurance she’ll keep any eye on the Underground matron.

 “He’s right, you know,” Abby said, striding alongside Gorin. “You can’t keep this secret for much longer.”

“I am aware.”

“Jillian needs to know, Gorin.”

“And I will tell her in due time.”

Abby reached out and grabbed the older woman by the upper arm, pulling her to a stop. “Be straight with me, Rebecca. You have no intention of telling Jill anything. You haven’t for years, and even now you’re making up excuses.”

“Because this is my cross to bear,” Gorin hissed, stepping close so their conversation remained private despite the empty corridor. “This is _my_ body and _my_ disease. I control when and where people become aware of it. Grant me that courtesy, Abigale. I will tell my daughter when I feel the time is right and not a moment beforehand. I expect you to respect my wishes.”

Whirling around and sliding her arms into her coat, Gorin stalked down the hall without another word, leaving Abby stranded between a rock and a hard place. Holtzmann would start noticing the changes in her mother. Her perception was stronger than most. Maybe she’d already sensed something was wrong but didn’t have the heart to comment. Whatever the reason, Abby was left with the impossible task of playing gatekeeper, and she hated it.

“I’m sorry, Rebecca,” Abby sighed, speaking to no one as she made her way home, rubbing trailing moisture from her eyes. “I won’t lie to Jillian. You don’t have much longer. I can’t watch a daughter cry over the sudden loss of her mother. Not when I’ve felt that pain in reverse.”

Across the Underground, Holtzmann heard her mother enter their dwelling—her usual call going up from the front door—one Holtz replied to absentmindedly. Resting with her chin atop her folded arms, she smiled warmly at her finished project. It turned out the little gift from Erin was a music box in the shape of a small, wooden robot. Under the glass dome of his head, the wind-up cogs turned, a hauntingly beautiful melody drifting from its chest.

 _I’m gonna put lights in you,_ Holtz smiled, closing her eyes and listening, planning her next venture Topside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for taking so long updating. This fic got away from me, but I finally feel like it's back on track. Hopefully I'll be posting more regularly now that I have a basic plan of attack!
> 
> Please let me know what you think! Reviews help me write faster and keep me on track. Please and thank you!


	22. Chapter 22

Maybe it was the lack of a full night’s rest the previous evening and the harried sprint to be ready and presentable for work that stripped the careful sanity from Erin’s mind. Maybe it had been her evening with Holtzmann and the easy way the Undergrounder helped quell the fear crawling under her skin like a toxin. Maybe this was Erin finally fighting back against the trauma still plaguing her with night terrors and flares of inconvenient panic. Whatever the reason, Erin Gilbert, respected District Attorney of New York, stood gathering her courage outside her boss’s office, arranging her features and expression like armor. Her resolve would be her shield. Her words the weapons. She checked them thoroughly, going over the conversation to be in her head.  

A small cluster of ADA’s scuttled past, a few giving her passing glances before heading to their next appointments. The world turned around her. Erin didn’t have time to stagnate. She had to move. This was her only opportunity to finally get back into the ring. It was now or never.

Hand pushing the brass handle down, Erin pushed into Phillip’s office without summons or preamble. The slender man looked up in surprise. She didn’t give him a chance to voice the emotion.

“I want to work the Debora Jane case.”

Phillip almost choked on his coffee, sputtering a little over the rim but not enough to make a mess. “I—Erin, you—good morning. I’m glad to see you here bright and early. Um… _what_?”

Erin quickly shut the door behind her—locking it for assured privacy—and went to stand in front of Phillip’s desk, too nervous to sit. “I want to take the Debora Jane case.”

Deciding it was probably best he didn’t try consuming hot liquids at this very moment, Phillip set his mug aside. “That’s not something I expected to hear coming from you,” he said carefully.

“I had time to process everything, and I want to take it on.”

Phillip’s carefully schooled face slowly creased at the brow. “Erin, you know I can’t let you do this.”

“But you’re going to regardless.”

Phillip reclined in his chair, brown eyes leveling on the woman in his employ. He was weighing something. So was Erin, though she’d never counted herself a gambler. “This is a clear conflict of interest.”

Here it was, the wall she’d been prepared to face.

“Legally speaking, I’ve not filed any motion against anyone or Falconi. I wasn’t able to give a clear description to De’fante. I only ever saw one man and he was a nondescript white male. My case is open but might as well be considered cold.”

“Bullshit,” Phillip fired back with a snort. “You and I both know that’s bullshit and it’s not how this works. That’s not how _we_ work, and I know you—“

“ _Do not_ finish what you are about to say,” Erin warned with a raised finger, posture brittle. “You don’t know what I want, Phillip.”

A pause of careful consideration. A breath of decision. “You want them to hang as much as I do.”

“This isn’t a lynching. I want justice.”

“Which isn’t gotten by the victim trying her own case!”

“I’m not trying my case. I’m trying them for Debora Jane.”

“Who might as well be your _stand-in_ , Erin. All it would take is for one of them to admit they were the ones who kidnaped you and the whole case we’ve built would be thrown out, and you’d be put under internal investigation. That’s not something you need right now. That’s not something this _firm_ needs.”

Erin squared her shoulders, drawing herself up. “If we approach a judge beforehand and plead my right to trial, they can sign off this isn’t a conflict of interest. There would be no threat of Falconi’s men using me to derail the case.”

“And what judge are you going to go through?” Phillip asked, crossing his arms. “Have you thought that far ahead, or are you just pissing in the dark?”

“There are a few I had in mind…” Erin hedged, fighting to keep her hands from fidgeting.

“Personal friends of your father don’t count.”

Remarkably, Erin was fast enough to keep the flush from fully working into her cheeks. Her eyes, however, couldn’t hide their sharpness. “Do not assume I would ever stoop to using personal contacts to sway a case in my favor.”

“Explain what you’re doing now.”

“I thought I was confiding in my superior!”

“No, you came in here with an agenda in mind and were ready to make sure I was on board with it,” Phillip scowled, the crease of his brow deepening by degrees. “You didn’t come in here to ask permission. You rolled in here with the intent to tell me exactly what was going to happen regardless of the legal ramifications, and I will not have that happening in this firm.” He tapped his desk with two fingers for emphasis. “You and I may be friends outside of work, Erin, but I will not let that friendship lead to something that could undermine this entire company.”

“Forgive me, but I’m more apt to let a judge decide.”

Erin knew she was walking on thin ice. She could feel it flexing under her the longer she stared at Phillip and watched his anger bank into something palpable. The man built this firm from the ground up. It was his dream and one he fought tooth and nail for. What Erin was suggesting could well ruin or at the very least tarnish the firm, but she was willing to take that risk. She had to. If she didn’t push, Erin felt she’d never be able to adequately try a case again. Debora Jane would hang around her neck like an albatross.

“Let us say a judge does sign off on this. That they somehow find you capable of trial without biased intentions. What if the men’s lawyers—and you know they will have lawyers if they’re tied to Falconi—get wind of your pending case file? What if they think the same thing I am, that this is a witch hunt you are spearheading out of vengeance and not justice? They will tear you apart and spit you out. They will desecrate your name and make you look like a hysterical woman drunk on power with a vendetta. Are you willing to face something that could easily ruin your credibility as a DA and your personal career?”

Erin’s peered down at the man, eyes never so cold. “The van was dark the night four men attempted to take my life. I got no clear look at the men attempting to kick me to death. I was beaten so severely I couldn’t sit up straight without aid and was nearly blind in one eye. I had a knife shoved into my ribs and was thrown out of a moving van. I was left to freeze to death in the snow with no clear knowledge of who ordered the hit or perpetrated it aside from Falconi. My case is airtight. They don’t have a leg to stand on.”

Phillip leaned forward, expression equally cold. “Then I would have to ask why you seem so keen on taking this case, Miss Gilbert. Out of all the cases that cross your desk what about this one stood out the most? Why did this one in particular spark such a fire in your blood? Is it because the woman looked like you? Or is it because you actually _do_ remember the men who beat you?”

Erin’s back teeth began to ache from clenching, but she knew how to keep her mask up. Too bad Phillip knew the truth already and was able to wheedle it out in the form of a flush crawling up her neck that stopped just shy of her shirt collar.

“ _That,_ ” he said, pointing to her reddening skin, “is exactly why I cannot let you front this case. I want them to fry as much as you do, but we’ll go about this the right way.”

“No, you don’t,” Erin laughed mirthlessly, head tilted back so she could stare at the ceiling. It was an excuse to get her bearings. “I guarantee you, you don’t.”

“They hurt a very dear friend of mine,” Phillip frowned.

“And they took three months of my life away and left this,” Erin made a vague gesture at herself, hand coming to rest over the scar of her knife wound, “in its place. They later stabbed a woman so severely she drowned in the East River before she could bleed out. Give me this, Phillip. I don’t ask for much from this firm. Let me work Debora’s case so I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the men who hurt me and killed her will never see the light of day again.”

“I gave you my answer, Erin,” Phillip stated evenly.

And this was why Erin wasn’t a gambler. She’d laid down her chips and come up empty. There was nothing to be done at this point. Her hands were tied. If she tried to move forward with the case, Phillip would know and likely yank her from future trials. As much as Erin wanted to take her attackers down, she couldn’t afford to lose her position or standing with the firm.

Her internal struggle and the gravity of her request must have dented something in Phillip because the slender man’s once rigid posture slipped a fraction, softness showing through the cracks.

“Look,” Phillip deflated, scratching at his receding hairline. “Look, I…I know how this is going to go down, Erin. I know you. We’ve worked together for years, and I’d like to think I know how your mind works. When you fixate on something you’re like a bulldog. Most of the time that works in our favor but right now? I need you to trust me. I know that’s going to be impossible, so I’m willing to make a deal. One that doesn’t leave this office.” Phillip leaned forward to put his elbows on the table, piquing Erin’s interest. “You do the digging. You do the paperwork. You put in the hours right along with me, and we’ll work this case in tandem. Let my name be on the docket, but I’ll let you be my ghostwriter. Fair?”

No, it wasn’t fair. None of this was fair, but in the world of the judicial system, this was all the currency Erin was going to glean from Phillip.

“Swear to me you’ll hang them all,” she whispered, looking down at the manila carpet under her heeled feet.

“I swear,” Phillip nodded solemnly. Erin could only nod a reluctant consent. This wasn’t the victory she wanted but it would do.

“Erin?” The brunette paused, hand on the doorknob. “What made you change your mind? Yesterday, you were pale as a sheet. Today you look like you’ve swallowed the sun. Why the change of heart?”

A beat of silence. Erin considered her words carefully.

“It wasn’t a change of heart,” she said with her back still turned. “It was the understanding I needed to stop living like a victim and start fighting back. A friend…a close friend of mine last night told me one person can’t shift the balance of power but they could affect others and so on, shifting the balance. I want to be that person, Phillip. I want to hang these men and hang Falconi. I don’t want another woman to end up like Debora Jane…or me. So I guess you could say I’m starting to take my life back.”

“I’m proud of you.”

This time, Erin glanced over her shoulder and found Phillip smiling warmly at her. She didn’t answer. Didn’t have anything worth adding, so she nodded and slipped out, a plan already forming. Sliding behind her desk, Erin picked up her phone and dialed a familiar number.

“Go for Patty, what you want?”

“Patty, it’s Erin.”

“Hey girl! We still on for Saturday night? Or are you gonna have weird family over again?”

Erin smiled at the memory but was thankful she had a phone receiver and distance between her and the PI. “Of course. Wouldn’t miss it for the world, but I need to call in a favor.”

It sounded like Patty sucked her teeth. “You already got me digging on a missing persons case. What else you need?”

“I need you to look into Marco Falconi and the four men he hired to abduct me.”

There was a lengthy pause, so much so Erin feared she’d lost connection with Patty. “You for real?”

“Why would I joke about this?”

“Like for real, _for real?_ ”

“Uh…yes?”

“Isn’t this something an actual detective should look into? Also, why are _you_ digging into this?”

“I’m helping construct the case with another attorney, but I don’t want my name tied to anything yet. All I need from you are any connections the men might have had. Conversations, meetings, dinners, I don’t know. Get creative.”

“Again, why not a detective? Why me? Shouldn’t you be asking De’fante this rather than going through a back door?”

“I would if this was a front door situation,” Erin said quietly, nesting the phone in the crook of her neck and pulling out a pen and notepad. “Falconi will be expecting a detective, and no one knows about you.”

“I see your logic, even if I’m not happy about it,” Patty grumbled. It sounded like she was shifting on a leather sofa. “You sure this is worth it, Erin? Digging into the mob like this has consequences.”

“I’m a DA, Patty. I think I’m already versed in the dangers.”

“Yeah, but you’re putting someone else’s neck on the line too, remember that.”

A shiver worked down Erin’s spine, making her sit up straighter. “Patty…I’m not suggesting—“

“I know you’re not. Just remember that my reach only goes so far. I’m a PI. The most I can do is the basic stuff. You want deeper than that you’re going to have to flex your own muscle and get De’fante involved. She’s a good detective. I trust her.”

“Of course,” Erin finished, nodding despite knowing Patty couldn’t see.

“I’ll see what I can come up with. Give me a few days.”

“Thank you, Patty. Have you, by chance, found anything out on that private matter we discussed?”

“No. When I find something, I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks.”

“Yeah, yeah, just remember to pay me with cash and food. Elsewise you can find yourself a new gopher.”

The line disconnected. Erin let out a breath to steady her hand as she wrote down a few names she’d check into after hours.

After hours. That was her fate now that she’d allied herself with Phillip and allowed him to take the helm. It wasn’t like Erin was unaccustomed to working like this. She was a self-proclaimed workaholic, but this felt different. This case held a weight to it that settled over her shoulders like a yoke. At least she had Patty in her pocket, but like the PI said, her reach extended only so far. Eventually, Erin would have to come out of the shadows.

For now, she would sit behind the scenes and do what someone of her department did best. She would dig.

For a solid week, Erin poured over as much information as she could scrub up from the depths of bottomless archives on Marco Falconi. There wasn’t much. There never was. Falconi was Teflon in the eyes of the law regardless of his “supposed” rap sheet. Racketeering, money laundering, drugs, illegal firearms dealings, prostitution, murder…the works. He was the stereotypical gangster with all the flair of a true Italian mobster, but he was a genius when it came to making sure nothing tied back to him. Those who worked his cases called him—quietly because the walls still had ears—“the rat” on account Falconi could escape from almost anything.

Too bad he’d left Erin Gilbert alive.

Scrunched into her favorite booth at The Diner—Erin’s go-to location for a quick meal and a chance to privately go over cases—the DA poured over her most recent findings procured by Patty two days prior. Papers spreading across the table, it looked like chaos, and it was, in a way. Organized chaos. To the untrained eye, that is. To Erin, these were her breadcrumbs. Secret dealings. Conversations. Photos. Written statements. Small victories hard won, but victories nonetheless.   

This was good. This was very good.

Reaching for her coffee—eyes on her notepad and transcripts—Erin didn’t notice the lone figure stride past her table and heading towards the bathrooms. Why would she? What caught her attention, however, was when the figure turned to face her, hands laced in front of him. She caught it in her periphery, her pen stilling.

Chills crawled up her neck. She didn’t dare move—the man had already gotten her attention—instead, opening her senses to something else. The Diner was quiet. At least, this part was. Erin had originally chosen a secluded spot but there was still atmospheric noise. Pots clanging. Cooks chattering. Waiters and waitresses taking orders. People conversing.

All of that was gone.

Another figure joined the other, this one taller, broader, and dark skinned. He didn’t hide the Glock attached to his hip. It peeked out from under his suit jacket when he crossed his arms.

Something moved behind her booth. Erin didn’t need to look to know what it was. Two more men. Two more guards. Two more hired guns in the employ of the man who was slipping into the seat across from her as easily as if they were college friends catching up on old times.

Marco Falconi could have been considered a good looking man. He had angular, hawkish features that flowed in an almost lethal symmetry rather than making him gangly and awkward. His whole visage screamed raptor. His eyes were an unassuming hazel. Friendly almost, as was his smile and loose demeanor. The man was a charmer. Most of his kind were.

“It’s wonderful seeing some of New York’s finest hard at work,” Falconi commented, lacing his fingers behind his head and leaning back in the booth, showing Erin he wasn’t armed or wired…though it was more of a front. Likely, he was wired to the hilt.

Erin remained where she was. The only thing that changed about her position was the drop of her pen and the folding of her own hands in front of her. She raised her eyes slowly like someone coming to the realization they’d crawled through a bush only to come face to face with a bear.

The two regarded one another for a handful of moments, gauging, playing a form of unspoken chicken. Erin wouldn’t speak. She couldn’t. Not out of fear, though that was pumping liberally through her veins. This was a perfect opportunity for derailment. She had no doubt she was being watched and photographed. After all, Erin was seated at a booth by a window and Falconi was directly across from her. Yes. This was a setup. She could smell it a mile away, and she wasn’t about to give him a damn thing.

“Not the conversational type, eh?” Falconi ventured, giving her a knowing smile. “That’s okay. You can just listen.”

The mob boss shifted forward, hand moving to the inside of his suit jacket. Erin immediately tensed, helpless to stop her body from edging back out of reflex. Falcoin saw this. His men saw this. But only one reacted.

“Easy now, Miss Gilbert. This isn’t a business call. Think of it more as a courtesy.” Slowly, Falconi withdrew a carefully folded newspaper, holding it gently by the edges with one hand while the other remained raised in a sign of goodwill.

“You read the paper?” he asked, cracking open the news print and thumbing through it. He was in no rush. Totally comfortable in his surroundings. This might as well have been a blasé conversation over toast. “I can’t necessarily blame you if didn’t with all the bullshit splashed over the front pages these days. World ending. Someone’s in bed with the mob. Someone’s having secret meetings. The president’s fucking another hooker. Everything’s going to shit, but then again, you know that seeing as you’re one of the few attempting to keep law and order.”

Erin remained silent and still. She didn’t look at the guards. Her eyes were for Falconi only. Eventually, the mob boss seemed to tire of whatever game he was attempting to play.

“I wanted to apologize for the mess that’s been hung over your head. What happened to you was unspeakable. A woman of your clear social standing should have never been put through such a harrowing ordeal. My sincerest apologies for the pain you suffered.”

Erin felt his oily words coil across her skin and clenched her hands together so tightly she began to lose feeling in her fingers. Internally, she was seething. How dare this motherfucker. How dare he slide into her booth and croon apologies. How dare he breathe the same air as she. How dare he breathe at all for what he did to her and Debora Jane and countless others.

“I’d like you to know that I’m a man who believes strongly in Karma. You get back what you put out. Karma catches up with everyone in due time.”

It wasn’t his words that chilled her to the core or the easy smile that split his face. It was the page of the paper Falconi placed between them. It wasn’t front page. Of course not. Something like this was common news in a place like New York. Third or fourth page at best.

The headline was simple. Four bodies recovered from a home in South Queens. An attempted triple murder that ended with all four assailants dead. Four black and white faces stared back at Erin. The same four from Debora Jane’s case file. The same four that would find their way into her case file.

All four of her attackers had been found dead earlier that morning.

Erin felt the world tilt. Her stomach flipped. She stared long and hard at the photos, warring with conflicting emotions. Relief jockeyed with rage. Joy with terror.

“I think you can agree Karma is the great equalizer, Miss Gilbert. We all get ours in the end.” Falconi said, reaching across the table and taking Erin’s cup of still-warm coffee and sipping from it, nodding appreciatively. “Good brew. Black is the only way to drink this.”

She was fending off a wave of shakes settling into her lower spine. Erin wouldn’t let him see her fear. This was a game after all. A game of chess with lives as pawns. One she would have to be willing to play if she wanted to win.

“Anyway, that’s all I wanted to say. Condolences extended and all that jazz. You have a good day, Miss Gilbert,” Falconi smiled, sliding from the booth, his message delivered.

Erin bit her bottom lip to the point it might have started bleeding.

“They call you Teflon because no one except God can touch you,” Erin said quietly without looking back at the man. She didn’t have to. She could feel him standing just beyond her booth and didn’t wait for a response. “But they said nothing about the devil. Let me tell you, Marco Falconi, hell spat me back out for a reason. I've seen what a steel knife can do to Teflon. One solid scratch is all I need to ruin your veneer finish.”

“So the kitten does have some claws?” Falconi chuckled. “An interesting development.”

“Karma catches up to us all,” Erin ventured, careful to keep her voice neutral.

A new smile split Falconi’s face, this one sharper than the others. The acceptance of an unspoken challenge. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“See that you do.”

“Oh, before I forget,” Erin watched Falconi fish for something in his pockets, patting through a few before finding what he was looking for. “Best of luck tracking down your relatives. Family is so important these days, especially those who are estranged to us.”

Erin hardly heard him. How could she? Her world seemed to retract into a single point of origin as she stared down at the old newspaper clipping settling next to her knuckles.

The paper had yellowed over time, but the image—like the newspaper in front of her—was crystal clear, showing her a glimpse in time of what Gorin must have looked like as a much younger woman. Because that was who Erin was looking at. The matron of the Underground standing proudly beside a young woman no older than seventeen…a woman Erin knew to be blind now but the features were the same.  

“I’m not sure you play chess, but I always like to share a lesson from time to time with people I think will understand the message.” Falconi was saying, snapping Erin back to the present. He had a smug look about him that lasted long enough for Erin to register before it settled into something stonily serious. One more item was set on the table, this one sucking the air from Erin’s lungs. Again it was an older article, a police ID, but she recognized Patty’s grinning face immediately. “A Queen should never send in a Knight to do a Rook’s job. Food for thought, Miss Gilbert.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look! A regular update you didn't have to wait weeks for! =D Ooooo now we're starting to get a grasp of the scope of things. The webs we weave is a tangled mess ;)
> 
> Let me know what you think! Reviews help me write faster and tell me how I'm doing! Take four seconds to shoot me a message! Please and thank you!


	23. Chapter 23

“Patty! Patty, open up!” Erin frantically slammed the flat of her palm against the PI’s apartment door until it stung, until her shoulders began to ache, until she was absolutely certain the worst had happened. She knew she was making an awful ruckus—people peering through peepholes and chain locks all across the floor—but didn’t care, panic dictating the volume and vehemence of her actions. She’d all but sprinted to her friend’s apartment after a harried scramble from the Diner, throwing money at a cabbie when they’d become snared in traffic and running the rest of the way.  

“Patty! _Patricia Tolan_! Open this—“ The sudden absence of wood under her palm put Erin off kilter, causing her to stutter forward until she caught the doorframe.

“What in Christ’s name are you screaming about?!” a very alive, very pissed-off looking Patty barked, thunder in her scowl. It didn’t escape Erin’s notice the tall woman clutched a small caliber pistol in her rock-steady right hand, the other gripping the doorknob.

Collapsing in relief against the frame, Erin wrestled with the adrenaline giving her limbs the shakes. Her vision blurred, making her aware of the moisture that built up in her eyes from her panicked trip.

“You’re okay,” she panted hoarsely. “Oh my god, you’re okay.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask why you’d think otherwise…” Patty sucked her teeth, sliding the sleek black gun into its holster at her side, eyes roving the hall over Erin’s shoulder. In answer, Erin pawed through her light jacket and handed over Patty’s old police ID, unsurprised the PI’s expression went from suspicious to shocked in the space between heartbeats.

“Where’d you get this?”

“Something’s happened, and we need to talk,” Erin straightened, feeling weak in the knees and a little nauseous. Patty roughly grabbed her by the front of her jacket and dragged the DA into her apartment, shutting and throwing multiple locks behind them.

From Erin’s vantage point in the entrance way, she gathered Patty’s apartment was roughly the same size as hers only slightly newer. Patty led them into a tight living room populated by a worn leather sofa, a few articles of storage furniture and bookshelves. Lots of bookshelves. So many it made the room feel more like a cave than a living space. One supported a small TV balanced atop stacks of thick textbooks. Others were packed to overflowing, reminding Erin of Holtzmann’s home.

“Take a seat,” Patty rumbled, dragging a stool from the tiny but immaculate kitchen into the living room and perching herself across the sofa. When Erin didn’t move, she pointed to the open cushion. “Spill it, baby. Where’d you get my old police ID?”

“Have you read today’s paper?” Erin asked instead, shakily sliding into the leather loveseat and trying to wrap her brain around the explanation to come. Patty shook her head, so Erin withdrew the paper gifted to her by Falconi. “Look at page eight.”

Wary, the PI thumbed through the pages, scanning the black and white print until she found what Erin wanted her to see. The headline alone gave her enough of a jump Patty’s eyebrows shot into her hairline.

“Oh…shit.”

“Marco Falconi paid me a visit,” Erin explained in a slow exhale, head in her hands, staring at her feet. Without having to look, she heard Patty shift further forward.

“He went to your place?”

“God, no,” Erin shook her head. “The Diner near my job.”

“You know that looks suspicious as shit you talking with a mobster,” Patty frowned, tossing the newspaper onto the coffee table between them.

“I think I of all people know that,” Erin retorted sharply. “I knew he was probing and was more than likely wired, which is why I didn’t say anything when he offered me this gesture of ‘goodwill’.” She made air quotations to better drive home her point.

“Falconi doesn’t give a gift without expecting one in return.”

“I’m aware,” Erin sighed, finally looking up. “He wants my silence, and he’s using you as the bargaining chip.”

Patty held up her ID, expression stony. “He’s the one who gave you this?”

“Along with—“ Erin stopped herself from going further. She didn’t know why. She’d been the one to ask for Patty’s help digging into Gorin’s history, but something told her this wasn’t the time to play her hand. “Along with a warning. He told me never to send a Knight to do a Rook’s job. I assumed this was a threat to stay out of his business. Does that mean anything to you?”

Patty sat back, a queer expression flickering across her features. Erin couldn’t place it, but it brushed closely with guarded unease. “I’m not a chess player, but I’m guessing you’re right. It’s a threat. Especially if he’s been digging around in police archives. That’s the only place this could have come from, which means we have a mole problem.”

Patty stood and headed to a chaotically orderly desk on the far side of the room, digging out a plastic baggie and depositing the ID into it.

“Do you think that’s how Falconi knew where to find me?”

“We know he’s been tailing you since you got back, so I’m not surprised he knew where to find you. However, I hadn’t gotten around to digging into the men who attacked you yet, so the fact he sent this threat now, with little to no prompting, doesn’t sit well with me. I’m going to go over your apartment again for bugs.”

Erin’s heart clenched up, a sinister thought worming into her brain. The newspaper clipping. Had Falconi known Erin was looking into Gorin because of a planted bug or because he had someone tailing Patty? And if he bugged her apartment…did he know about Holtzmann?

“Girl, you’re looking too pale to just be worried about me,” the PI squinted, noting the change in the DA.

“If he bugged my apartment he might know about other cases and private matters,” she swallowed, skirting the probe.

“Good thing we can go over this here then and not at your possibly bugged apartment,” Patty said, sitting back down on her stool, a manila folder in hand. Erin’s curiosity piqued, her moment of fear moved to the back burner.

“The woman you had me look into?” Patty prompted, settling for an understanding nod from Erin. “She a ghost, and I don’t mean that sarcastically. She doesn’t have a birth certificate. No social security. No credit cards. Nothing but a hinky obituary mention, which is where I found her first name. Rebecca. Full name, Rebecca Gorin.”

Erin’s frown pulled at the corners of her mouth until she noticed how wide Patty’s own lips were stretching, mischief shining in her brown eyes. “Something you want to share with the class?”

“Might not have gotten anything on your missing lady, _but_ I did dig up something very interesting that might lead us somewhere.”

From the file, Patty withdrew a healthy stack of papers secured with a sturdy paper clip and set them down in front of Erin, tapping the top document with her index finger. “Rebecca Gorin might be a ghost, but she had a protégé. Miss Abigale Lee Yates.”

Erin stared at the high school graduation photo, mouth dry, poker face in play. Her hair was shorter and more curly. She wore a thick pair of black and orange glasses perched on her nose and looked a smidge smaller, but little had changed in her face, even after thirty years of aging Underground. That was Abby. The same Abby from the photo Falconi slid her way with an oily smile on his hawkish face.

“Modern day prodigy, from what I’ve dug up,” Patty was saying, drawing Erin back into the conversation. “Smart girl with a bright future.”

“Prodigy of what?”

“Some kind of science that’s way beyond my pay grade of understanding. Something to do with diseases? Like, CDC level shit. Abigale graduated high school at fifteen—I know right? Impressive as hell—and went directly to MIT with a full scholarship under her belt.”

“Not Johns Hopkins or Harvard?” Erin frowned in confusion. While MIT was as prestigious as a school could get, they weren’t exactly made famous by their medical or disease research department. Technology and engineering were more their style.

“Thought the same thing too,” Patty nodded, catching Erin’s thread of thought, “but apparently, your missing lady was affiliated with the school. My guess is she taught there at one time, but the records have been wiped clean. Anyway, two years after graduating high school, Abigale’s working with Gorin, which was apparently a huge deal. Warranted a picture of the two of them in the school’s paper.”

Riffling through the pages, Erin came across said photo, the same one as her newspaper clipping, only this was a photocopy.

“This all seems kind of standard. Why is she important to Rebecca’s case?”

“Girl, you gotta learn to savor the build-up of a good mystery, goddamn,” Patty sighed, throwing her hands up. “So Abigale goes to work with Gorin. All’s good and fun and whatever, and then the building they’re both working in _blows up._ ”

Erin felt her body grow still, heart rate spiking. “An accident?”

“It’s billed that way,” Patty said, drawing in her lips and nodding. “There was an investigation. Lots of red tape and finger-pointing, but all thirteen members of Gorin’s team were killed, including Gorin and her protégé. _However_ , here’s where things get weird, Abigale’s parents didn’t buy it. Something about this whole thing seemed off, so they had her remains exhumed and tested.”

“They weren’t hers,” Erin finished quietly, eyes lifting and settling on Patty.

"Bingo. Abigale Yates is a missing person. Her parents still have her case open—poor bastards are in their seventies now—but it’s thirty years cold. If she did survive, she’s done one hell of a job covering her tracks and going underground.”

 _You literally have no idea,_ Erin wanted to say. “Do they suspect Abigale had a hand in the explosion?”

“Nothing concrete was ever uncovered. The lead investigator on the case, Cedric…” Patty took the bundle back from Erin and thumbed to the needed page. “Cedric Barrowman. He ruled the explosion an accident, but it was never made clear how or why a lab like that blew up the way it did without a massive amount of chemical accelerant. Baby, I’m talking this building was turned into a crater. There are photos of it in the file. The explosion made the news.”

“What did the investigation say about Gorin?”

“Remains were recovered, but with no one to claim or verify them, it’s hard telling if she’s dead or alive. My guess? She’s dead, but that doesn’t explain who went to the trouble of completely erasing this woman from the face of the earth.”

“Sounds like someone with a lot of power,” Erin supplied, feeling a familiar uneasy twinge between her shoulder blades.

“Sounds mob related, if you ask me.”

“Or government.”

“Or that, but I’m not one for conspiracy theories,” Patty tisked. “If the government was covering this up there wouldn’t be traces left behind. There are some pretty blaring breadcrumbs hanging around.”

Erin reclined a little, digesting everything she’d been told. None of it made sense, but at the same time it was painting a very ominous picture of Gorin…Rebecca Gorin. Who was she, and why go to the trouble of erasing everything about her? The trail didn’t end here, Erin could feel it.

“All of this is excellent information, Patty. Thank you.”

“What can I say?” Patty grinned, spreading her arms. “I’m damn good at what I do.”

"You are, which is why I need you to keep looking.”

Patty’s smile slipped. “Baby, there’s nothing else left. When I said this woman was a ghost I mean it. I’ve got nothing to go on.”

Erin chewed her lip, unsure if what came next was strictly needed or even remotely safe. “I…have a feeling this woman is still alive.”

A beat of silence. Patty slowly folded her arms, the stool under her creaking with the movement.

“You working on a hunch or something more concrete?” she wanted to know, and Erin stiffened under her friend’s cutting gaze. “What’s Rebecca Gorin to you, Erin? Why are you so interested in a ghost?”

“If I tell you I can’t say for moral and personal reasons, will you accept them?”

“Begrudgingly,” Patty frowned, twisting up her face. “But at some point, you’re going to have to trust me enough to tell me what’s going on. I can’t help you unless you give me access to the whole feast not just scraps from the table.”           

“See what else you can find. If this really is a complete dead end, I’ll have to accept that. But I just…have a feeling it’s not.”

“So long as you keep paying me, we’re gravy. Now,” Patty slapped her knees and stood. “You and me are going to take a quick trip to the police station to see exactly _why_ this ID came out of my box. Then we’re going back to your apartment, and I’m going to install a little bit of insurance.”

Erin cocked her head, not following. Grinning, Patty retrieved something that looked like a pepper grinder from the kitchen, flipping it easily in her hand.

“You’re going to teach me how to cook?”

“You wish,” the tall woman cackled. “Someday I’ll grace you with a Patty-special-breakfast. No, this little baby is my own design. Let’s just say after almost twenty years on the force I learned a little about signal jamming and how to really piss off perps.”   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really have an excuse for why this update is so late. Life has been crazy. Went from no jobs to two jobs and then personal stuff hit. I'm behind on a lot of things, and I'm sorry for that. Hopefully, more regular updates will follow. And yes, the next chapter will be Holtzmann heavy. Had to set things up Topside first.
> 
> Please take four seconds to let me know what you thought. This story is going in a slightly different direction than planned, and I want to hear my reader's thoughts. Thank you.


	24. Chapter 24

Rarely did Holtzmann wake to the smell of cooking breakfast. In the Underground, perishables like eggs, meat and cheese were a scarce commodity due largely because of a lack of refrigeration. It was hard smuggling a refrigerator into the tunnels unless it was a minifridge, and even that lacked space for essentials. Waking to the scent of searing bacon was a welcome treat.

Flipping onto her back with a grunt as stale muscles reenergized with a stretch, Holtz took a moment to stare at her ceiling and the night sky looking back. Not the real sky, of course. In the Underground, there was no sky. No sun or moon. No stars. Holtzmann lived most of her childhood ignorant to the tidal flow of celestial bodies circling her little planet until Abby snuck her Topside one year for her birthday. That began the Undergrounder’s love affair with astronomy. Books, magazines, VHS documentaries…whatever she could read or watch about the heavens she would for hours, absorbing everything, forgetting nothing.

That love eventually spilled out onto the ceiling of her room. With no real window to glimpse through, Holtzmann painted her own. Carefully, over the years, she researched and tracked the stars over her city, replicating her favorite celestial spattering of stars. Those of the winter quadrant, where Orion and Ursa Major and Minor roamed.  

Stretched and ready to rise, Holtz swung out of bed and tugged on a threadbare David Bowie band shirt, following her nose to the small kitchen. Taking a moment to linger in the doorway, she watched her mother move from the counter to the cast iron skillet settled over a gas camping stove, dropping in ingredients with methodical care.  

 _My birthday isn’t for another four months_ , she smiled as she slipped into the room and planting a quick kiss on her mother’s cheek. _What’s the occasion? Also, good morning._

“Can’t a mother want to spoil her child a little?” Gorin asked with a lingering glance over her shoulder as she shifted the omelets around in the pan. Holtz gave her a “good try but I know better” look, making the woman chuckle. “I asked Jerry to make a special run. I had a craving for eggs and bacon.”

 _You won’t hear me complaining,_ Holtz smiled again. Common though this domesticity was, it still made her smile dopily from her lean against the counter. Her mother might not have been the best cook, but she made due where she could.

Grabbing place settings, Holtz slid into the only other chair at the kitchen table, content on watching. No, more like _intent_ on watching, eyes sharper than they had reason to be, even for this early. Because from her casual lounging, Holtzmann had a clear view of her mother as she worked, the tremors in her hands noticeable this morning.

They’d been there for years, the shakes. The subtle tremors. The twitches masked by constant movement. Gorin liked to pretend their existence wasn’t a daily, growing hindrance—ignoring them and any comments made by her daughter or fellow Undergrounders. Holtzmann, however, wasn’t stupid by any stretch of the imagination. She knew something was amiss, but prying would get her nothing but a cold shoulder and nowhere fast. So she bit her tongue and tried to put it from her mind, reminding herself that her mother was getting older and this sometimes happened.

A fitting lie, but one that worked for the moment.

“What are you working on today?” Gorin asked, setting the sizzling skillet between them. Holtz had already filled their glasses with water and helped herself to a large cheesy spoonful of omelet after serving her mother first.

 _The hydro machine,_ she said, mouth full of food that didn’t inhibit her speech at all. _I_ finally _got the hydraulics calibrated and the pipes fitted. Now comes the wiring and programming. I’m so close, I can taste it._ She punctuated her point by taking another hearty bite.

“If you need a second hand, I’m free today,” Gorin offered, carefully picking at her food.

 _Really?_ Holtz beamed at the unexpected gesture, cheese and onion sticking to her teeth.

“Swallow, Jillian,” Gorin huffed, rolling her eyes but smiling all the same.

_I’d love the help! As long as…you’re not busy, that is._

“I wouldn’t have offered if I was.”

 _Excellent! Mother-daughter work day!_ Holtz punched the air. _We’ve not had one of those in a long time._

“Too long,” Gorin said with a hint of apology. “I’ve been so busy making sure we’re set for summer and our further expansion into the tunnels. I feel like I’ve neglected our time together.”

Sensing the unspoken guilt, Holtz reached across the table and took her mother’s hand, ignoring how prominent Gorin’s knuckles were becoming. The skin, however, was soft as ever.

 _I know why you’ve been busy, and it’s okay. I’m grateful for any time we get to spend together. I know things have been a little…crazy since the beginning of the year._ Holtz tried not to mention Erin directly, unsure if her mother could see the lie in her eyes. 

“How did I get so lucky to have a daughter like you?”

The comment came out of left field and took Holtz by surprise. Rare were moments of emotion for the matron of the Underground. Gorin wasn’t a sentimental woman. Even during her early years in the tunnels, she remained reserved and aloof for both her protection and her daughter’s. The only time Holtzmann saw her mother as she actually was—saw the caring, loving, expressive woman under the mask—was during quiet moments like these, and she cherished them.

 _I could say the same thing about mothers,_ she winked with a warm grin. _Guess something in the universe just wanted it that way._

They finished their meal at a leisurely pace, neither feeling there was an immediate rush. Once the table was cleaned and the dishes were done, Holtz gathered her blueprints and met her mother in the lab, catching Gorin admiring the behemoth growing from the center of the lab like the trunk of a redwood.

“This really is an astounding machine.”

Holtz bobbed her head, hiding a blush as she cleared her workbench and laid out her blueprints. _Had one hell of a teacher between you and Abby._

“Don’t discount your own abilities, Jillian. You built this all on your own. We just helped where we could, but this came from your mind. Have you hooked up the water intake?”

_I was going to save that for last just in case the programming didn’t stick._

“I don’t think there’s a worry of that. Go ahead and run the pipes. I’ll start soldering wires.”

Nodding in agreement, Holtz climbed into the monster she’d birthed through sweat, grit, and frustrated hammer blows and began working. The two fell into a steady rhythm, helped along by the radio Holtz tuned to her favorite 80’s station. Time passed without notice. They laughed and traded jokes—tried to sing a few parts to favorite songs—comfortable in their world of raw technology and engineering. And the few times Gorin dropped a pair of pliers, missed with a wrench, or her hands shook too much for her to properly solder were met with guarded winces or studiously ignored.

 _You ready?_ The blonde engineer bounced excitedly, fingers gripping the leaver that would ultimately determine the fate of her machine and the Underground. No pressure.

“At your command,” Gorin nodded solemnly, unable to hide the proud smile quirking the edges of her lips. The lab was dark, lights either dimmed or switched off so they could determine whether or not the hydroelectric machine was doing its job…and to prevent unnecessary explosions.

_And Holtzmann said…let there be light!_

The leaver fell like a stone dropped from a bridge, clicking into place with heavy finality. At first, nothing happened. It was to be expected. The machine was slow to rise from its slumber, but when it did the room shook around a throaty growl. Pipes groaned. Pressure increased. Pistons slowly began to turn, driving hydraulics. In the semi-darkness, it was like hearing the approach of a mechanical beast.

 _Gauges reading steady,_ Holtz said, reading off the cluster of gauges next to her, hand still fisting the leaver just in case she had to terminate.

“It will hold.”

_Pressure is rising into the green. We’re looking good. Still no power to the valves._

“Give it a moment, Jillian,” Gorin smiled, feeding off her daughters excitement second-hand.

_Almost…almost…there!_

Smashing a blinking green button, Holtz activated the final catch and the machine burst into action. Overhead, the dormant lights flickered into existence like stars sucking in lifegiving nebula gas.

 _Yes!_ Holtz jumped away from the machine, arms straight up. She quickly went back to the gauges, checked again, saw they were holding steady and began bouncing around the room. _It works! It really works! Mother, we got it to work!_

Overcome, Holtz wrapped her mother in a tight hug and swung her around, both women laughing and grinning like fools as the machine continued to create energy.

_We can get off the New York grid now. We’re completely self-sustaining._

“I knew you could do it,” Gorin mumbled into her daughter’s messy mop of hair, kissing the top of her head. “I’ll go find Abby and bring her in. She’ll want to see this for herself.”

 _I think a celebratory pizza is in order?_ Holtz called, feeling like she was a helium balloon bouncing off the ceiling.

Gorin waved over her shoulder as she made for the door, slower than usual but holding steady. “Make the call. I’ll see you in a bit.”

 _Oh hell yes,_ Holtz fist pumped, spinning in place, watching her hydroelectric baby rumble through its first few moments of life. Two years’ worth of work finally coming to fruition. If she spread her arms, Holtz swore she could fly she was so happy.

Climbing into the pipes near the ceiling, Holtz double-checked her fittings just to be sure, still a little skittish even with things up and running. She was just about to apply thread lock to a loose nut when a series of beeps made her freeze, head popping out from behind a pipe. Those hadn’t come from the machine and were too regular to be background noise. Leaning out, she listened again, straining her sharp hearing, and almost fell out of her metallic nest when they happened again. Strangely enough, it was coming from her radio and sounded like Morse Code.

Clambering down—cleaning grease from her hands on her stained overalls—Holtz snatched up the speaker attached to a long, kinky cord.

 **Message received. You are a go for Holtzmann,** she radioed in, using the side button to answer back in the same code.

 **Holtz! Thank god, it’s Lucas,** came the reply seconds later. **Is it safe to speak?**

Frowning—Undergrounders only used Code to speak through the pipes…there was no need to start a conversation this way—Holtz radioed back she was alone and to go ahead.

“I need you to come Topside and get Mother’s package.”

**We’re not expecting anything.**

“This was rush order, and I don’t like delivering shit like this.

**She got you running tampons again? What’d you do to piss her off this time?**

“No, it’s…” Lucas cut off, trying to compile his thoughts. “Taft ordered it. Insisted it was an emergency. I get that, but I don’t like this. Tell him when you get back I can’t be his drug runner.”

Alarm bells began going off in Holtzmann’s mind, her heart rate spiking. Drug runner? Taft had connections with the Topside for medication, but drugs?

**Wait, what’s the package?**

“Just get up here,” came the hissed reply. “I’ll be by the East entrance at my usual spot. Come quick.”

**Lucas, what are you carrying?**

There was no further reply. Either Lucas turned off his radio or he wasn’t paying attention.

Letting the speaker drop and bracing her hands on the table, Holtz tried to wrap herself around the message. Drugs? No, that wasn’t right. Nothing like that was permitted in the Underground. Not even liquor could make it past the upper tunnels. Mother had strict rules. People were searched before they came in and no orders for either substance could be made from Helpers. It was a system that had worked for years, so Lucas must have meant something else. Right?

_He’d said it was an emergency. What…emergency?_

Knitting her fingers behind her head and bending until her forehead touched the cool table, Holtz wrestled with herself, waffling between what could and should be done. Something wasn’t right. She could feel it in her gut. Had since watching her mother cook breakfast that morning and saw how badly she was shaking. Was that the emergency? Was something wrong with her mother? Had that been why Taft called for the delivery? Nausea crawled into the Undergrounder’s stomach, nesting like acid in her intestines.

_Shit…shit!_

With no clear alternatives or explanations left--and no way of verifying anything with her mother or Taft--Holtz hurried from the lab, grabbing the hoodie she usually wore for Topside excursions and a scarf. She did her best to duck out without anyone noticing—leaving a note for Mother saying she’d gone to meet a Helper for their pizza delivery— and sticking to the lesser used passages.

Emerging into the upper tunnels, Holtz moved as sure-footed as a mountain goat through the familiar terrain, her subterranean home quickly falling away to the openness of a breezy New York night. Spring was almost behind them, the air warming with each passing day as summer approached.

Head down and hands tucked into her pocket, Holtz jogged to the meeting location, using the shadows as her cover. Lucas preferred to rendezvous under a grove of heavy oak trees, using the canopy and underbrush as shielding for their exchanges. Tonight, the Helper waited for her, pacing like a cat in a cage.

“Christ, it took you long enough,” he hissed when Holtz emerged from behind one of the trees.

 _“You radioed me like forty minutes ago,”_ she signed, scowling at the rude welcome. _“Chill your damn jets.”_

“I’m sorry,” Lucas deflated, rubbing the back of his head. “I just…this isn't my thing anymore. Tell Taft this is the last time I make a run like this. I don’t fucking care what he wants it for. I don’t want to go back to prison.”

Before Holtz could object or ask for clarification, a tightly wrapped brick of black cellophane was pushed into her hands along with two bottles of pills. Her stomach clenched, understanding hitting her like a brick in the face. These really were drugs.

 _“I don’t understand,”_  she grabbed her friend before he could dart off, stuffing the package into her zipping hoodie pocket. _“Taft doesn’t make orders like this. Drugs aren’t allowed in the Underground. What else did he tell you?”_

“Yeah, well, apparently he does now. And he didn't say shit. Only that it was an emergency.”

_“What emergency?”_

“He said he needed medicine, okay. But I call bullshit.”

_“Lucas—“_

“We can’t stay here,” the Helper shifted back a step, looking nervously over his shoulder. Holtz swallowed, his unease making her jittery. “This whole deal almost went sideways earlier tonight. That package was tough as shit to come by, so you tell Taft what I told you. I’m not going to be his mule—“

Something snapped nearby and two things happened simultaneously. One, four magnum flashlights winked into existence like tiny, earthbound suns, bathing the clearing in blinding white light. Two, figures emerged from the thicket like ghosts emerging from fog.

“NYPD!” Someone shouted at the top of their lungs to their immediate right. “Get on the ground! Get on the ground now!”

Holtzmann spun, heart lurching into her throat. Fear sank its claws into her, slowing the spin of the world as she twisted and squinted through the blinding light. No. These were cops. She was Topside. No, no, no, no!

Instinct drove her to flee, bending her into a protective crouch. Suddenly, the chasm between her people and the Topsiders grew that much wider as the reality of her situation struck home. Here, Holtz was a stranger. Here, she was a threat. And when they saw her face…

Everywhere her eyes darted stood a figure silhouetted by harsh flashlights, darker shapes clutched in hand. Guns. There were guns trained on her. Terror sucked the air from Holtzmann’s lungs, making her stagger. Lucas must have come to the same realization at about the same time because he jerked around and screamed, “Holtzmann, _run!_ ” just before tackling the closest cop to the ground, drawing attention away from his panicked Underground friend.

It was like her legs were springs ready to release with a hairpin trigger. Holtz launched into motion, bowling past two stunned officers and diving into the underbrush. There was no finesse to her movement. No skilled footfalls or flashy moved. This was the terrified scramble of prey fleeing a predator, and Holtz made it reasonably far until a set of arms wrapped around her waist, dragging her to the ground.

Earth and sky traded places in a painful slap, the taste of soil and fallen leaves exploding against her senses when her head bounced off the ground, making her ears ring.

“Freeze! Get on the—“ the officer grunted in pain when the Undergrounder’s boot blindly struck out and connected with his stomach just below his protective vest, practically doubling him over. Another blow caught him in the knee, eliciting a proper cry of pain when the joint bent oddly. Holtzmann scrambled on hands and knees before righting herself. Disoriented. Wheezing. Desperation driving her like a team of horses towards safety.

Pop! Pop!

“I said freeze, you son of a bitch!”

The ground next to Holtzmann’s foot exploded in a poof, a bullet lodging into the earth. Something whizzed by her shoulder, close enough to graze her hoodie like an angry hornet. Holtz heard and felt nothing. It was like her head had been filled with static, fuzzing out everything but the razor sharp edges of feral instinct.

A hand gripped her shoulder, pushing to drive her to the ground. The noise in her head grew, or was that the roar ripping from her throat? Or perhaps the scream of the officer staggering away from her with a broken arm. Too loud. Too much. Holtz ground her teeth, hands pressed against her ears. He needed to be quiet because quiet meant safety. So he fell silent when the same hand that snapped his arm at the elbow raked across his face, nails laying open skin, painting the leaves below in crimson.

The officer’s body hit the ground, but Holtz was running long before the connection was made. Safe. She needed to find somewhere safe. Iron filled her burning lungs. Where was the small coming from? Her hand? Why was it red? No time to find out. The park wasn’t safe, her mind screamed. There were dangerous people in the underbrush. They would follow her Underground. They would hurt her people. So where to go? Where to hide?

Instinct was both cruel and punishing, driving the Undergrounder into an unfamiliar city, head down, arms pumping, breath rasping, following street signs she hoped were actually there.

* * *

 

Across town, Patty Tolan watched Erin head back into her apartment from their dinner together—sipping her nightly cup of coffee—content on letting her car warm up before threading her way back into traffic. In her lap she poured over the packet she’d shown the DA earlier, looking at the picture of the woman she was contracted to find. Rebecca Gorin. A true ghost of New York. Out of habit, the PI tuned into the police scanner attached to her dashboard, listening half-heartedly as she scanned through the channels until a frantic call made her freeze.

“Confirmed 10-54. Ambulance in route to location. Please verify the state of the officer,” the dispatcher calmly stated over the speaker.

“Jesus Christ! It looks like a bear attacked him!” someone—probably another officer at the scene—shouted in the background.

“What in the fresh fuck is going on?” Patty muttered, turning up the volume.

“10-34, we have an officer down! Need assistance ASAP! Suspect still at large!” Another officer spoke over the first.

“10-4, deputy, can you describe the suspect.”

“Suspect fled the scene wearing a maroon hoodie and dark jeans. Armed and dangerous. Approach with extreme caution.”

“Well shit,” Patty harrumphed, taking a sip. “Must be a busy night in Central—“ she jumped and almost hit the roof of her car—spilling her coffee in the process—when someone slid across the hood, metal squealing in its wake. The figure continued their dead run, not stopping or slowing in the slightest when Patty all but ripped out of her car, swearing at the top of her lungs and throwing her ruined beverage at its back.

“Yeah, you better keep running, you fucker! I get my hands on you and you’re— _what the hell did you do to my car!?_ ”

Mouth agape, Patty stared dumbfounded at five long claw marks raked across the hood of her blue Ford, deep enough to puncture the metal in a few places.

“Fucking Wolverine running through the city?!”

Whipping back around, the PI caught a glimpse of a maroon hoodie and black pants as the figure darted into the alley, climbing the fire escape like a seasoned gymnast, barely touching the rails as it went.

Maroon hoodie…

“Oh, fuck no. Huh-uh. No way,” Patty swore, running across the road for a better look. It was hard to tell where the figure was going—it being dark and all—until it stopped on the eighth floor and frantically beat at a window before entering.

Erin’s window…

“Sweet Christ. I swear to god, that woman can’t stay out of trouble!”

Sprinting back to her car, Patty scrambled for her radio and dialed into the correct channel. “Dispatch, this is Patricia Tolan, do you copy?”

“Get off this channel, Patty,” came a growling voice on the other line. “This is for active personnel only.”

“Shut the fuck up, Teddy. You all know I’m twice as active as your lazy asses. I’ve got a visual on your APB. Heading south on West 75th street.”

“Jesus, how’d he get there so fast?”

“Maybe on account you were sitting with your finger up your ass?” Patty snorted, rooting around her vehicle for something.

“Fuck you. Stay put. We’re on our way.”

“Bullshit you are, you prick,” Patty muttered after dropping the radio. She wasn’t about to wait. Not again. Heading back into the building, she made sure her gun was loaded and drawn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit just got real really fast. I told you we were going in a different direction ;) Looks like a reunion between three of the four girls is going to be in order...which can't be good with the state of things. Yikes.
> 
> So let me know what you think! Take four seconds to comment. It literally helps me write faster and lets me know your thoughts!


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This gets pretty emotional, you all, so I'm sorry in advance. Lots of stuff in here, so it's longer than most of the chapter updates. Take it as a two-in-one and an apology for not updating as regularly.

Setting her keys on the counter, Erin felt herself coming down from her evening with Patty, a smile not far from her lips. The woman was a laugh riot and possibly the realest friend the DA had made in years. Unconventional but real. They’d headed to one of Patty’s favorite watering holes—a mom and pop Italian place that looked more hole-in-the-wall than restaurant but served better pasta that any five-star joint—before heading to a local bar for drinks. It was a perfect way to wind down after a long and stressful three days—Erin’s caseloads creeping up on her.

Rolling her neck and dropping her coat over the back of the couch, Erin made for the bathroom, ready for a hot shower, maybe another glass of wine, and bed. So when the sound of someone racing up the fire escape caught her attention, she instinctively paused, frowning. It couldn’t be Holtzmann. She’d not gotten any word about a visit—the two exchanging messages through an unhappy Jerry. But then who was out there?

Turning to the window just to be sure, Erin waited and felt her pulse quicken when a dark figure swung over the railing and landed with a loud thud on her landing. That same quickened pulse roared into overdrive when the figure pressed its face against the glass and Erin saw the sheer terror pouring from Holtzmann. The bloody hand she began smacking at the glass with didn’t help matters either.

“Oh my god!” Erin ran to the window and struggled to pull it open, Holtzmann practically beating to get in from the other side. When Erin finally got it open, the smaller woman tumbled into the living room, panting to the point she was wheezing and scared out of her mind.

“Holtz! Oh god, you’re bleeding! What happened?!” Erin couldn’t get an answer out of the woman beyond a few unintelligent grunts. She couldn’t articulate, their mental connection spotty. Eyes so wide the DA could see the whites, Holtz clung to her like a lifeline.

“Holtzmann, you have to talk to me. What happened? Who did this—“

“Erin!”

The shout came from the hall and was immediately followed by the riotous concussion of a door being kicked in. The frame cracked. Wood flew everywhere, spraying the occupants with splinters as Patty Tolan thundered into the apartment.   

“Patty, what the hell?!” Erin shouted in alarm from her instinctive duck, struggling to decide what startled her more: a bloody Holtzmann almost breaking through her window or Patty kicking in her door. Trick question: it was the door.

“Get away from the window! Someone—“ the PI took one look into the room, saw something her mind couldn’t comprehend and felt her world tip at the edges. “Oh my fucking god, the rats have become sentient!” Patty shouted, gun raised, finger closing unconsciously around the trigger. “Jesus Christ, what the fuck is that?!”

“No! Patty, stop!” Erin implored, head whipping between the two women, arms out. Oh fuck. Oh no. This was bad. This was beyond bad. She could feel the situation deteriorating by the millisecond, everything happening in a blur. Holtz, already coiled and terrified, saw the threat, saw the gun, heard Erin’s terrified plea and reacted. The sound ripping from her throat wasn’t remotely human, nor was the way she crouched and lunged across the couch.

The world slowed, movement turning to molasses before her eyes. Erin knew what would happen. Patty was an ex-cop. She was being attacked. She would shoot to kill.    

Erin didn’t know what force propelled her between the two or what pushed Patty off to the side, but from one breath to the next Erin felt her back thump against the wall beside the door as she came face-to-face with a fury that took her breath away.

Holtzmann was a hairsbreadth from her, face twisted in a snarl so animalistic there was hardly any shred of humanity left. Fangs bared and nails ready, the Undergrounder’s warm, gravely breath burst across Erin’s face in heaving waves. Pressed flat, the DA stood very still, willing the younger woman to calm.  

“Jillian,” she croaked, nervously using Holtzmann’s first name in hopes of reaching her faster. “Focus on me. Focus. You’re okay. You’re safe. I’m right here in front of you. Please see me.”

Feral terror began to melt under the heat of slow understanding, giving way to confusion. Slowly, Holtzmann’s breathing calmed, blue eyes refocusing.

“Hey,” Erin soothed, lifting her hands and cupping the woman’s face, fingers moving stray strands of sweaty hair out of her eyes. “That’s good. That’s awesome, Jill. Come back to me.”

The sound of her name combined with the skin-to-skin contact cleared the snarl marring Holtzmann’s face and burned away the last of her fear. She blinked once, coming back to herself with a rattling inhale.

_Erin?_

“Yeah,” the brunette smiled, relief making her feel like a deflated balloon. “I’m—“ Erin froze, and so did Holtz when the muzzle of a Glock pressed into her temple.

“Get the _fuck_ away from my friend you _freak_ ,” Patty commanded, teetering on the edge of her own type of panic.

“Patty…” Erin’s attention snapped to the PI, heart hammering like a jackhammer behind her ribcage. “Put the gun down.”

“I told you to step away!” Patty snarled again, pressing the muzzle harder into Holtzmann’s skull.

“Patricia, stop! She was just scared!” Erin bit back, knowing she was playing with fire when she wrapped her fingers around the barrel and pushing it away, moving the younger woman protective behind her. “She’s not going to hurt anyone. Put. The gun. Down.”

“Get away from it, Erin!”

“She’s not an ‘it’. She’s human, and her name is Holtzmann.”

“That thing isn’t fucking human! I don’t know what it is, but it’s the farthest thing from our species!”

“I’m going to have to ask you to lower your weapon,” Erin challenged coolly, face neutral despite staring down the barrel of a very loaded, very live weapon.

“Not going to happen, baby.”

“Then you’re going to shoot your friend. I’m not moving until you lower your weapon.”

A standoff. God, what had her quiet evening devolved into? The PI and the DA would have likely remained deadlocked had the sound of multiple police sirens not shattered the silence. Even eight stories off the ground, the familiar blue flash of police lights illuminated Erin’s living room, filling her with a different kind of potent dread.

“You called the cops?”

“Yeah, I did!”

“Why!?"

“I was following the description of a suspect who attacked a cop in Central Park tonight. And judging by the blood on your freaky wolfgirl’s hand, it looks like I caught my perp! Step away, Erin. I’m not going to ask you again.”

“Shoot me then,” The brunette snarled, not budging an inch. Behind her, Holtzmann suddenly shot into the first available corner, tucking into herself, making her body as small as possible.

“Christ,” Patty growled, seeing her opportunity and going for her cuffs. “Can’t I just have one peaceful—“

“You have to send them away,” Erin begged, racing to stop her friend before she approached Holtzmann and provoked another attack.

“The fuck I will! It attacked a cop!”

“ _She_! Holtzmann is a _she_ , and she didn’t! She wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“The officer’s got claw marks across his face, Erin. His neck was opened up. There’s blood on its claws. I’m smart enough to put two and two together.”

“It’s not what you think!”

“Doesn’t matter what I think! I know what I’m seeing!”

“Just fucking stop for two seconds and _listen to me!_ ” Erin shouted, shocking Patty by her volume and vehemence. “Look at her, Patty! Look! What do you think they’ll do the second they see her? You think they’ll calmly cuff her and put her in a squad car, or are they going to open fire? What’s going to happen when they get to the station and find out she’s _mute_? Better yet, what’s going to stop them or some motherfucker from the city from taking her to the first available lab!? _She can’t go with them!_ ”

“Boo, I don’t see where I’ve not made myself clear. _She_ attacked an officer. _She_ also fucked up the hood of the car I _just finished paying off!_ ”

Frustrated beyond words, Erin raked her hands through her hair and made a tight spin, taking in the room and the impossible situation hanging by a frayed thread. Something happened, she was sure of it, but she was also sure Holtzmann wouldn’t attack someone without provocation. The woman was positively petrified. But on the other hand, Erin had Patty to contend with, someone she called friend and trusted.

Fuck, she didn’t want to do this, but it was the only hand she had left to play. “If you get the cops to go away, I’ll tell you everything.”  

“She _attacked_ an officer, Erin.” Patty frowned incredulously. “I’m not about—”

“Holtzmann saved my life the night I was attacked. She was the one who cared for me. I’ll tell you everything about where I was the months I was missing. I’ll tell you why I’m looking for—“ Erin swallowed, eyes darting over to a wide-eyed Holtz watching her from the corner. “For the woman I told you about. I’ll tell you everything…just please make them leave. Holtzmann didn’t attack anyone. I know her. I’d stake both my life and career on it. She didn’t attack that man. Please, Patty. Please, you have to trust me.”

The PI didn’t move save for holstering her gun after a tense few seconds of calculated staring. “What you’re asking is putting my credibility on the line, baby. You really want to take that gamble?”

“I know Holtz didn’t do this. Or if she did, there’s a good reason.”

“There’s never a good reason to almost kill a cop,” Patty bristled darkly.

“You and I both know that’s not always the case. Please, just make them leave. Tell them you saw your perp run through a different alley. Tell them it got away. You’re a PI. You don’t have to answer to any of them.”

Sucking her teeth, Patty eventually deflated in defeat. “You’re gonna owe me so big after this.”

“I’ll pay you triple for tonight.”

“You’ll pay me triple for the next week, as a start,” Patty snorted before pointing. “I get back and you tell me everything. _Everything._ Start to finish. I’m getting the whole story. Got it?”

Not trusting her voice, Erin nodded enthusiastically and breathed a gusty sigh of relief when Patty stalked out of the apartment, unsuccessfully closing the broken door behind her.

_You’re wrong. I hurt that man._

Erin whipped around, startled by Holtzmann’s voice despite knowing the Undergrounder was there. Shaking away her frayed nerves, she crouched in front of Holtzmann, angling herself so she filled the blonde’s vision. “Honey, I’m going to need to know what happened. Can you do that for me before Patty gets back?”

Fighting a sob that manifested into a painful hiccup, Holtz tried her best. _I—I met Lucas in the park. He had…he had a package for me for Mother. Something went wrong. The police were there. They s-surrounded us. I panicked._ Holtz was starting to cry in earnest, face scrunching in pain as she fought the adrenaline still pumping through her veins. _Lucas told me to run and I did! They couldn’t see me, Erin! They weren’t supposed to be there! And I…I…I don’t know how it happened. Someone tackled me. I remember hitting the ground and there was shouting and screaming and then someone was shooting at me—_

“The offer shot at you?” Erin’s eyebrows jumped into her hairline. Unconsciously, she did a quick sweep of the woman but was unable to tell if Holtzmann had any unseen injuries.

She nodded, blonde hair swinging. _He told me to freeze. When I didn’t, he shot at me and then everything….e-everything went blank. I was scared! I was so scared! I didn’t want him to take me! Oh god…this is his blood._ Holtz raised her hand in horror, tears streaking down her face. _I really did kill someone! Erin, I killed a man!_

“No, honey, no,” Erin interjected, taking the sobbing woman’s face in her hands, refusing to let go when Holtz kicked back. “You did not kill anyone.”

_There’s blood on me, Erin, and it’s not mine!_

“I know. I know, but I need you to calm down, okay. Calm down. Can you stand? I want to take you to the bathroom and get you cleaned up.”

 _I don’t…want to hurt you,_ she whimpered, curling her clawed fingers into the fabric of her hoodie and doing her best to meld with the wood behind her.

“You’d never hurt me, Holtz. Never. I trust you with my life. Please trust me.” Hand outstretched, Erin waited patiently for the Undergrounder to make the decision for herself. When she eventually did, Erin led her into her bathroom and made her disrobe. When a black cellophane brick fell out of Holtzmann’s hoodie pocket, Erin studiously ignored it, focused instead on her friend.

There were no other wounds. No bullet holes or grazes. Only cuts and scrapes to her arms and face from running through the underbrush. As gently as she could, Erin cleaned the abrasions and picked the leaf debris out of her hair before thoroughly cleaning off Holtzmann’s bloodied hand with soap and peroxide. Yes, she was removing and destroying evidence. Yes, that was a felony. No, she didn’t give a shit because regardless of what happened Holtzmann could not be arrested.

Through the whole process, the blonde remained silent, eyes glassy and unfocused. She only seemed to rouse when Erin slipped her into a gray MIT hoodie, the comforting smell of the older woman enveloping her.

“Hey,” Erin smiled warmly, seeing her come back around. “There you are.”

_I did something bad, Erin._

“No, you didn’t.”

_I hurt someone._

“You were protecting yourself.”

_So was he._

Biting her lip, Erin led Holtz back into the living room, sitting her on the sofa so she could check to see if Patty had convinced the officers to leave. Through her shades, she spotted the PI speaking with a cluster of officers surrounding her car. More than once, Patty pointed between the Ford’s hood and the alley, obviously explaining _something._ This went on for another five minutes before the officers climbed back into their squad cars and rolled off.

“Oh thank god,” Erin exhaled, resting her forehead against the cool glass. One obstacle hurdled over. Only a hundred more to go.

“Holtz,” she said, crouching once more, putting her hands on her friend’s knees. “My friend Patty is going to come back up here. She’s not going to hurt you or me. I need you to know that. She was just—“

_A little surprised by my face?_

The comment came out so sad and remorseful Erin felt her chest clench. “Yes, honey. She was a little startled.”

_She pointed a gun at my head._

Hanging her head—because really what else was there to say?—Erin sighed through her nose. “Yes, she did, but she won’t do it again. There is, however, a chance she’s going to want to know what happened in the park. Tell her what you told me.”

_Are you really going to tell her about the Underground?_

The knife in Erin’s side twisted, plunging deeper. “I don’t really have a choice. But Patty is beyond trustworthy. I trust her as much as I trust you. She won’t tell anyone. Your peoples’ secret is safe with her.”

Two minutes later, the PI reentered the apartment building looking grim. Erin heard the woman before she saw her, Patty shouting at the people on Erin’s floor—obviously curious about all the noise—to get the hell back into their apartments. There was nothing to see.

“Did they buy it?” Erin asked nervously when the tall woman shouldered her way through the DA’s broken door, fighting to get it center once more.

“Course they fucking bought it. I was credible to a fault up until now. So thanks for that,” Patty rumbled unhappily and raised her hand to cut off Erin’s apology. “Save it, baby. I’m not in the mood. We had a deal. Now you tell me everything.”

Coming around the front of the sofa—Erin dogging her heels—Patty spotted a skittish-looking Holtzmann watching her from the far side of the couch and stilled. Erin had turned on a few lights in Patty’s absence, giving the PI a clear view of the…thing.

  _Please don’t punch me because I’m ugly._

“Holtzmann!” Erin gasped but Patty froze, fingers itching to move for her gun. She’d heard it speak, but its mouth hadn’t moved. How?

“How’d you do that?” she squinted, still maintaining a safe distance. It was Holtz and Erin’s turn to pale.

“You heard her?”

_She can hear me?_

“Yeah, I fucking did. You some kind of ventriloquist?” Holtzmann slowly shook her head. “How are you speaking then?” Holtz pointed to her head in answer, but Patty missed the message. “How you speaking, boo?”

“She speaks…um…” Erin’s mind whirled through explanations but could only firmly grasp one. “You know how Professor Xavier can speak with his mind? Holtzmann can do that.”

Patty very slowly turned to face the DA, expression grave. “You telling me this thing is a goddamn mutant?”

 _If it makes you feel better, sure,_ Holtz shrugged mirthlessly.

“You’re not a mutant,” Erin chided before addressing Patty. “She’s not a mutant. Holtz suffered a brain injury as a child that rendered her mute. Somehow…her body found another way to communicate. Just kind of…go with it.”

“Yeah, sure, okay,” the PI said puffing out her cheeks. “Just go with it. Right. Go with the idea I’m talking to a damn mutant wolf thing with mind powers.”

“Patty, please—“

“Okay, wolfgirl, riddle me this,” Patty instructed over Erin in a clipped tone, taking a seat on the coffee table like she was preparing for an interrogation. “How did one of New York’s finest wind up with a flayed face and a popped jugular?”

Holtzmann visibly paled, shifting back so much it looked like she was trying to climb the backrest. _Is he dead?_

“That’s not what I asked. I asked—“

 _Is he dead!?_ she shouted, startling Patty enough she almost slipped from her seat. Erin quickly abandoned her place near the window and came around to crouch next to Holtz, shushing her back to some semblance of calm.

“Christ! It’s like she’s speaking in stereo in my head!” Patty winced, wiggling a finger in her ear like it would make a damn bit of good.  

“Is the officer alive?” Erin pressed, continuing the conversation where Holtzmann couldn’t.

“Yeah, he is. First responders got there fast enough he didn’t bleed out, but he’s in critical care. So I’d like an explanation as to why I’m letting this…” Patty made vague gestures at the Undergrounder, at a loss for words.

“Holtzmann,” Erin scowled. “Use her name.”

“Fine. Holtzmann. Why do you get to go free after an assault like that?”

 _He tackled me,_ she explained in a small voice, looking for all the world like a frightened child huddled in the cushions. _Chased me down and threw me to the ground. He shot at me when I wouldn’t freeze, but after that everything goes blank. I don’t remember hurting him. I just remember needing to get away._

“He was chasing you because you had drugs on you,” Patty deadpanned, her flat gaze drifting over to a stunned Erin. “Oh, she didn't mention that to you? Yeah, this was a drug bust.”

 _I didn’t know Lucas had drugs,_ Holtz pleaded, peering over the forearm she’d wrapped around her knees. _I didn’t know what the pickup was for! Taft made the order for Mother! Lucas called me but wouldn’t say what was in the package!_   

“The police were following Lucas?” Erin asked, directing her question at Holtzmann but Patty answered instead.

“Apparently, they’d gotten an anonymous tip about someone stealing pharmaceuticals and redistributing them. Description matched the man arrested tonight, but he’s refusing to say what he was carrying or who he was meeting. I guess now we know why.”

Wordlessly, Erin rose and went to the bathroom—trusting Patty not to do anything stupid in her absence—and retrieved the black cellophane bundle. She placed it on the coffee table with care along with two hefty prescription bottles pilfered from the Undergrounder’s hoodie.

Straight-faced, Patty pulled a knife from her pocket and sliced into the brick, revealing a leafy green inside.

“This is a brick of pot,” she sighed, recognizing the plant and its accompanying smell. Reaching forward, she snatched up the prescription bottles and scanned the label—expecting something generic and marketable—only to frown in confusion.

“These are…” Squinting at the name just to be sure, Patty’s eyebrows drifted together like nearing magnets. “Xanazine and Austedo? Antichorea meds.”

Erin felt her entire body grow cold, ice slithering in her veins, joining the knife in her ribs. She knew those prescriptions…intimately. Why on earth would Holtzmann need those? No, not Holtz. She said the order had been placed by Taft for Gorin. Oh god…

“Okay, well, if memory serves, and I ain’t no doctor, these are—“ Patty caught Erin’s sharp, pleading shake of her head. Something unspoken passed between them—a silent conversation consisting of gestures—so Patty played along…for now. “These are muscle relaxers. Of a sort. And I guess the pot is part of the package. Okay, why were you picking this up, Holtzmann?”

 _I don’t know! I don’t know what any of this means!_ Suddenly standing—which made Patty jump—Holtzmann began pacing, bleeding out her nervous energy. _I don’t know what’s going on. No one will tell me, but I know something’s happening._

“Holtz,” Erin began slowly, the puzzle pieces laid before her fitting into a grim image. “What’s wrong with your mother?”

It shocked Patty when the smaller woman stilled, eyes wide and glassy, before suddenly dissolving into helpless sobs, hand slapping over her mouth. All at once, this thing that looked more creature than human became more human than any of them in the room.

 _I don’t know,_ Holtzmann cried, sinking down onto the coffee table and doubling over. _She’s getting worse. Every day the shaking gets worse, and she’s so thin, but no one will tell me anything! They keep brushing off my questions. Is it cancer? Is it something else? I’m not stupid! I can see that’s happening, but even Abby refuses to talk about it, and I’m scared, Erin! I’m so scared! I think my mother might be dying but no one will say anything! Why won’t they talk to me? I have a right to know! I have a right! I’m her daughter!_

Gathering the shattering woman into her arms, Erin tried her best not to let her own tears fall, her heart breaking for her friend. To live day after day watching someone you loved dearly deteriorate and not knowing the cause had to be a special kind of hell. Holtzmann didn’t deserve this. No one did, and an ember of fury woke hot and dangerous in Erin’s chest.

No child deserved to be lied to like this.

“Shit,” Patty deflated, watching the two, resting her elbows on her knees and hanging her head. This wasn’t what she expected walking back up here. And the fucked up part? She could relate. How many cases had she manned where someone was caught stealing because they didn’t have food or couldn’t get medicine for their family? How many times had she heard a similar story and ground her teeth because the system was broken and those not born with a silver spoon in their mouths fell through the cracks? Too many, by her count. This was by far the strangest, but Holtzmann’s story wasn’t unique.

Wordlessly rising, she went into Erin’s kitchen and found a large Ziplock bag which she deposited the cellophane brick and pills into. Returning to the living room, she swallowed her unease and sat on the coffee table’s edge closest to Erin, putting her directly in front of Holtzmann.

“Here,” she offered the wrapped package. “You need to get these home, okay? If your mother really is that sick, she needs the medicine. Do you all…umm have a doctor wherever you are?”

Holtzmann numbly took the package, rubbing her weeping eyes with the sleeve of her hoodie. It took her a moment to calm, but she eventually offered a faint nod. _His name is Taft. He’s been our medical physician for years._

The name jogged something in Patty’s mind, making her sit up a little straighter. Erin saw the spark light her eyes and braced for what she knew came next, but the questions remained locked behind Patty’s teeth.

“Well, I think things have settled down enough we can get you home,” the PI announced, slapping her knees and standing.

 _You don’t know where I live,_ Holtz countered, managing a shy smile.

“You can stay, Holtz, if you’d like. I don’t mind,” Erin reassured, nervous about leaving her alone in this state to wander the tunnels. She was still traumatized and clung to the DA like breaking away would somehow ensure the earth swallowed her.

 _I really shouldn’t even be up here. Lucas messaged me privately. I left Mother a note that I was getting pizza for us._ The Undergrounder chuckled under her breath, picking at the bits of dried blood still in the seams of her cuticle. The ghost of a proud smile touched her. _We got the hydroelectric machine up and running today. The Underground is officially off the grid. Yay._

“That’s wonderful!” Erin beamed, hugging the smaller woman tightly. “It’s really working?”

Holtz nodded, sheepish once more. _Yeah, it’s working. So I should get home before Mother sends Abby to find me, but umm…I can’t really go back without food._ Redness crept into her neck, making the blonde want to dip her head. _Can I…ask a favor?_

“Tell you what,” Patty said. “I’ll place a rush order at a place down the street and get you a pie. You get yourself—I don’t know—covered up, and when I get back me and Erin will get you home.”

“Patty, you don’t—“

“I do,” she cut in, “because you and I have a _lot_ to talk about, and I’m gonna need pizza and beer for this explanation. It’s gonna be a long night, so hop to it.”

Sensing she’s be pushing her luck bucking against her friend, Erin agreed and helped get Holtz dressed for her trek back into the city. Since her hoodie could be incriminating, it remained in the apartment. Holtz was rightly more nervous this time, sticking close to the DA and her PI friend as they wove their way to the Underground entrance she and Abby used the last time they were Topside.

“I’ll chill out here and make sure no one comes down. Take your time,” Patty said, taking her place against the wall and biting into a slice of pizza retrieved from one of three boxes.

 _Thanks again for kind of rescuing me,_ Holtz said, shuffling her feet when they reached the Underground door.

“I guess we’re one for one now, but we really need to stop meeting when the other is bleeding,” Erin teased, gently rubbing the other woman’s shoulder. They shared a laugh that died too quickly, the events of the even hanging heavy around them. “Hey, I want you to do something for me when you get back down there, okay? I want you to try and talk to your mother.”

_She won’t listen to me, Erin. I’ve tried._

“Then maybe she needs to be confronted by someone else.”

Holtz’s expression opened in shock. _You? Erin, she’d throw you out if she caught you down there again!_

“I know, but this doesn’t sit well with me. None of this does. You could have gotten hurt tonight or killed. Her…I don’t know…arrogance, maybe fear, can’t put her daughter’s life at risk like this again.”

 _At least I know a good lawyer in case I ever get arrested?_ Holtz jested, attempting to lighten the mood but failing. _I won’t stop you from coming down. To me, you’re part of the community now. You’re a Helper,_ _but just like you, I don’t want you hurt. You’ve been through enough, and I keep crashing into your life and bringing in all this chaos. I’m sorry for that. I’m so sorry. You don’t deserve to—_

Holtzmann jerked to a stop mid-sentence and froze, nearly dropping her pizzas when Erin’s soft lips closed over hers, effectively silencing her rambling tumble. It was a chase kiss, quick and shy, but it might as well have been a firework going off between them. Sensing the other woman’s shock, Erin began to move away but Holtz followed, deepening the kiss until reality bit back.

She was an Undergrounder. Erin was a Topsider. This couldn’t happen, but god did she want it to.

“I’m sorry,” Erin breathed into the space between them, cheeks on fire. “I don’t—that was sudden and—“

 _You won’t hear me complaining_ , Holtz said a little loopy, the grin on her face spreading.

“Umm…you should, uh, probably get going.”

_Yeah…that’s a good idea. Yep._

Holtzmann readjusted her box of pizzas and headed into the tunnels, glancing over her shoulder every few steps until Erin drifted out of view.

“Oh my god, Erin, what were you thinking?” She honestly didn’t know what drove her to do that. Protection? Comfort? Reassurance? Grounding? Something deeper? Yes, there was something deeper, something unspoken and growing that neither woman had been willing to face because their situation was too fantastic, their worlds too different to truly bring something to fruition. But the sobering reality was, Erin’s intentions might have been innocent but Holtzmann had been at an emotional disadvantage.

Climbing out of the basement, the DA felt her stomach grow sour. What had she just done?

“Everything okay?” Patty frowned, seeing the concerned look on her friend’s face.

“I think I just did something really stupid, Patty.”

“Seems to be your lot in life,” the PI shrugged through a mouthful of food, keeping pace with the shorter woman. “Just telling it like it is, boo.”

“Yeah…it really does.”

“When were you going to tell me Holtzmann’s mother was Rebecca Gorin?”

Erin kept walking, eyes forward. “When did you figure it out?”

“When she mentioned Taft and Abby. No reason either of those names should be floating around.”

“I always knew you were sharp,” Erin commented, mind racing.

“Start talking, baby. I’ve got all night, and you have a long story to tell.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that happened. Oh Erin, you're a damn mess, but Holtz is no better. So the plot continues to thicken! What did you all think?
> 
> Reviews help me know how I'm doing and what you think. Take four seconds to let me know. =)


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're welcome ;)

Fingers curl and fist, digging into the mattress and drawing the sheets taught. Back arched like the belly of a bow, Erin succumbs to a gusty exhale. Was she still breathing? Did it matter? No, because her focus wasn’t on the repeated slam of her chest or the life-giving muscle roaring inside it, synched instead with the relentless pace of tooth, tongue, and wiry fingers putting her through her paces.   

Gasoline in her veins and helium in her head, Erin felt like a Mylar balloon fit to bursting. Her body ached and burned, fighting to accommodate the intrusion. One sharp jab was all it would take to bring her to pieces, and she yearned for it. Craved it. Panted and bucked and _pleaded_ for it because at this rate she was going to self-combust or implode.

Two steadying hands snake around her thighs, holding her tight, holding her still, drawing her close to the hot tongue gliding between her folds, seeking and finding her opening, drawing out every last gasp like a sea witch attempting to steal her voice. It alternated between wide sweeps and short flicks, lips closing around her clit to suck before roaming elsewhere. Erin invokes deities she has no business calling to, screaming into the night as claws dug into the soft, pale skin of her legs. It’s intoxication at its finest, a mix of pain and pleasure. She loses herself to it, feral and wanting.

But the static back-building in her lower belly and pelvis was becoming unbearable. Desperately, Erin struggled onto her elbows. From the point of her parted knees and beyond, the room was inky dark. Darker than it had reason to be, making the blue orbs staring up at her shine like earth-bound stars.

Predator and prey, that was the thrilling sensation trickling down her spine. Blonde hair ghosted across her skin, twining with the muggy breath panting against the burn of her arousal.

“ _Please_ ,” she begged, voice hoarse and broken, halfway to a sob. The accompanying growl rattled the bones in her chest and splintered her soul. There was a beast in her bed and it was devouring her whole. Little Red and the Wolf, only she willingly submitted, wanton and loose. “Jillian, please!”

A fanged smile in dark, flashing like heat lightning. Terror and lust shoot through Erin, making her shiver. The moment those same fangs sank into the meat of her inner thigh—breaking skin and spilling crimson across her sheets—three fingers bury inside her and twitch into a hard curl against her walls, seeking and finding the point of no return.

Erin saw stars at the same time she saw sound, orgasm rocketing her upright in a tangle of sweaty sheets and a gasp like she’d been underwater for hours. Panic bloomed, bright and strangling. Erin couldn’t remember where she was until her eyes adjusted. Semi-dark, her room was empty, save for her and a growing sense of loneliness.

Seated upright and shaking, Erin had to remember how to breathe. In and out. Over and over, until the flush of climax faded. But the dregs of her dream stubbornly lingered like a drunken lover, trailing ice down her spine.

It was an absurdly long time until Erin flopped back into her pillows—the heels of her palms digging into her eyes—sleep a secondary need. This was the fourth time this week she’d been dragged out of the safe confines of sleep due to a dream. Though this was the first time it had ever been a dream like _that_.

God, what had that even _been_? And why did it gnaw at such a consuming need? Probably because the last time Erin fell into bed with someone was well over a year ago. Her career meant maintaining any sort of partnership was near impossible.

Needy and hardly sated, Erin sank her teeth into her bottom lip and slid a hand between her legs, chasing the powerful sensations that had awoken her. Climax came on fast but not nearly as satisfying, leaving the DA a coiled, frustrated mess.

“Fuck,” she hissed, throwing her arm over her eyes, cleaning her fingers on her sheets. This wasn’t how she wanted her day—particularly today—to start. Flushed. Aching. _Wanting._ Wanting what, exactly? Because currently, Erin couldn’t puzzle out a damn thing, and her nighttime fantasies weren’t helping the confliction. Especially when she could still feel the ghost of fangs along the inside of her thigh.

“I can’t do this.”

Throwing off her blankets and clambering out of bed, Erin figured now was as good a time to get a jump on her morning…despite it being an hour before sunrise. She’d be early to her appointment. Hours early. Fuck.

Sucking it up and muscling through a cold shower—the bite made her shiver but thankfully killed her libido—Erin’s sour mood settled over her head like a dark cloud. Breakfast was fast, cheap, and dirty: a bowl of cereal she ate half-heartedly while reading over her documents for the day. Out the door well before six, she didn’t make for the subway or her office, hailing a cab instead.

“Where to?”

“Manhattan Detention,” she instructed sharply, settling in for a long ride. Blessedly, the cabbie didn’t attempt to make conversation. Little miracles and all that jazz because today Erin wasn’t in a talkative mood for two reasons. One, her raunchy nighttime escapades left her hungry in an insatiable way. Two, today was the day she was about to break the law.

The tall brick building blended in seamlessly with its urban surroundings, unnoticed and unobtrusive in the New York city spread. Erin knew better. She’d made many trips to this place over the years. Especially during her time as a public defender. My weren’t those simpler times.

Entering through the double doors, she registered with the front desk and took her seat in the waiting room, fingers drumming a fast tattoo across her satchel, synching with the rhythm of her heart rate. Was she really doing this? Yes...yes she was. It didn’t take long for an officer to call her back and escort her to the private rooms reserved for legal consultation and interrogation. Her client was already waiting for her.

“Good morning, Mr. Pine,” she said taking a seat in the uncomfortable plastic chair across from the man in a green jumpsuit who looked just a shade shy of suspicious about this early morning encounter.

“You’re not my public defender,” Lucas frowned once the two were left alone.

“Good of you to notice,” Erin said with a tight, red-lipped smile, setting her satchel on the table between them. “My name is Erin Gilbert. I’m a District Attorney, and I’ll be handling your case from here on out.”

Lucas’ face conveyed the same shock Erin felt when her resolve set three days ago about taking this case. It had been after her talk with Patty after Holtz left for the Underground. In fact, Erin was still feeling the shock rolling around in her system like a ferret with a ball.

“Why is a DA interested in a drug possession case?”

“Felony drug possession and the assault of an officer, if memory serves correct. Which it does.” Erin crisply removed a manila folder from her bag. They both knew what it was.

Lucas shifted, picking at the shackles around his wrists. He was young. Younger than Erin previously assumed. Possibly mid-twenties or early thirties. Unremarkable features but kind eyes. She could easily understand why Gorin used this man as a Helper…and as a drug runner. He was unassuming and could blend in with a crowd. Smart…to a degree.  

“Seems pretty open and shut to me,” Lucas muttered with all the dejection of a man resigning to his fate.

“Does it?” Erin tilted her head. “You don’t seem the type who would become a drug mule out of the blue.”

“Clearly you’re not aware of my wrap-sheet.”

“I am, in fact,” Erin said conversationally, tapping the folder. “I also know you served time five years ago and have kept your nose clean, so to speak, since. Steady job. Steady rent payments. Meetings with your Parole officer once a month. All drug tests coming back negative. You’re clean.”

“Is that why you’re here?” Lucas asked bitterly down at the table, refusing to make eye contact. “To make sure a good man goes free? I’m not a good man, Miss Gilbert. Not by a long shot.”

“Good enough for Mother and the Underground.” Erin watched the young man stiffen and grow still. She’d chosen her words carefully. This was, after all, her kind of game.

“I don’t know—“

“Holtzmann is fine, by the way. She found me when word reached her you were in trouble.”

A beat of silence. The air crackled with a heavy kind of anticipation that made each breath a labor. Very, very slowly, Lucas looked up, but it wasn’t fear in his eyes. Concern, yes, but behind it burned a savage kind of loyalty.

“How do you know that name?” he husked, keeping his voice low.

“I know you’re a Helper.”

“ _How do you know that name?_ ”

Erin set her hands on the metal table and threaded her fingers together. “I’m sure you’re familiar with the story of the DA who went missing for three months back in early December.”

Lucas’ brow furrowed, not catching the correlation. Erin waited for him to puzzle it out, aware others might be listening. When understanding finally hit home like a sucker punch it was all the young man could do to remain seated.

“That was you. _You’re her_. The one Holtz—“

“Yes,” Erin cut him off with a raised hand. “That was me.”

“She’s safe?” Lucas hissed, moving closer and dropping his voice, chains rattling as he moved. “I heard gunshots and thought…I thought—“

“She’s safe,” Erin confirmed. “And so are you. Your bail has also been posted. You leave this afternoon.”

“What?” Lucas settled back in his chair with a heavy thump, dizzy and trying to catch up. “I’m sorry I—there was no bail posted?”

“Things have changed,” Erin inclined her head, fighting to keep from gnashing her back teeth. Things had changed because she’d made them change. “As it stands, I owe you a favor for helping her all these years, but in turn, you owe me a favor.”     

Lucas licked his lips, sensing the bait and waiting trap but helpless to stop from stumbling into it. “There’s a catch to all of this?”

“Nothing in life is free, Mr. Pine. I’m sure you’re aware of that,” Erin answered, settling back in her chair and crossing her legs. In this moment, she looked for all the world like a lawmaker right down to the smart blouse and blazer combo to the impeccable lines of her makeup. Today was about making a statement, and she was making it quite clear. In her lay the power.

“And what…price does someone like you require?”

“I need to know how to call Goliath.”

Lucas visibly paled and shrank back like the Underground behemoth was directly behind Erin. Now, she could see true fear in the man. “Why the fuck do you want to call that monster?”

“I have my reasons. Do we have a deal?” The DA extended her hand—baited and hooked—and waited.

“She’s safe?” Lucas asked again, not budging an inch.

“Yes.”

“And you’re going to keep them safe?”

“With all the power at my disposal, yes.”

That was it then. There was nothing Lucas had to bargain with. He was smart enough to know Erin held both his life and freedom in her hands. So he reached out and made the connection, shaking firmly.

“Excellent. I’ll see to it your discharge papers are in order. I’ll be waiting outside.” With that, she left the room, the echoes of her heels proceeding her. But power wasn’t the sensation Erin felt while leaving the building. Far from it. An unwelcome weight settled in her stomach. The strings she’d pulled to get to this point…ethics and morals could be called into question. She hadn’t told anyone her plans. Not even Patty and the guilt was a tremendous burden. Erin had lived her life by the book, literally. Now she was breaking years of credibility for…what exactly?

 _For a chance to get answers once and for all,_ she told herself. It was a beautiful lie. She almost believed it. This wasn’t about answers. Not entirely. This was itching a combative scratch that had plagued her since leaving the Underground. This was also turning the tables. Now, it was Gorin’s turn to feel the pressure.  

When Lucas emerged sometime later, he met Erin at the curb and together they climbed into a cab. The ride to his apartment was a silent one. Again, Erin was thankful, watching the city slide by through her window.

“Why do you need to call…him,” Lucas finally asked.

“Personal reasons.”

The man looked at her, unsure where he should step next. “He’s not someone you want to call on for a friendly chat, Miss Gilbert. Do you even know what he is?”

Erin turned her head, the question plain on her face. “I assumed he was like the rest of the people down there.”

Lucas barked with cynical laughter flavored with just a touch of fear. “Goliath always was and always will be. That’s what they say down there. He was there before the Underground formed and he’ll be there when it falls.”

Erin fought to keep from rolling her eyes. This sounded like something bordering on fanatic superstition. “Are you presuming to tell me he’s not—“

“Human? I don’t know what he is, but he ain’t that. Why Mother keeps him around is beyond me, but that thing isn’t right.”

“I’ve seen him once before, and I can assure you, he’s just a man.”

Lucas just shook his head, popping open the door when they arrived at his apartment. “I don’t know what death wish you have, Miss Gilbert, but if you want to call the creature all you have to do is tap. Three hard strikes, two fast. Do that three times and wait. He’ll show up.”

“Thank you,” Erin nodded from the cab. “I will be in touch with more information about your upcoming charges.”

“Right. Thanks.”

“Where to now?” the cabbie asked, idling on the curb.

“West entrance for Central Park,” Erin said, fighting the butterflies raging inside her chest cavity. Her fingers curled around the satchel strap next to her. Unbidden, Falconi’s words drifted back to her as the vehicle slid into motion.

_Never send a rook to do a queen’s job._

“He never said anything about making a move against another queen with only a pawn in hand,” Erin muttered. But this wasn’t chess. This was Russian Roulette.

The sun was bright and warm when Erin entered the park. Spring was truly overtaking the city, plant and animal life alive in picturesque ways. Just like any other day, no one paid her any mind. Not even when she kicked off her heels and waded into the underbrush, moving well off the beaten path. This was New York. Weird things happened all the time.

Coming upon the entrance to the Underground in the daylight felt a little…sacrilegious, like wandering into someone’s garden after passing a ‘No Trespassing’ sign. It wasn’t nearly as eerie or as foreboding as it was in the dark, but that didn’t mean Erin’s pulse didn’t quicken.

With one last look over her shoulder to make sure she was utterly alone, Erin entered the cement tunnel and heaved aside the rusted grate, flicking on her flashlight the deeper she went. It didn’t take long for the darkness to swallow her. When she found a fat pipe yards later, the DA sighed with relief.

_Three hard taps, two small, three times._

The noise of her flashlight striking hollow metal was jarring, setting her teeth on edge. It echoed for eternity, rattling through the concrete tube like the last dying note of a car crash.

Settling in, Erin waited. In the dark. Alone again at the entrance to the Underground. Was this how Persephone felt waiting to enter Hades? Erin couldn’t only guess as much. Thankfully, this time she had a watch and a sense of what was going to happen, but when she heard boot falls on concrete almost an hour and a half later it still kicked her stomach into her throat.

His mask emerged first from the darkness, like the face of a ghost materializing long before the body became corporeal. Erin swallowed down the rush of fear, holding steady, feigning power when she knew she was truly powerless.

Goliath stopped feet from her, close enough to invade that natural bubble of personal space.

“Thank you for coming,” Erin said, making sure to keep her flashlight trained on the ground.

Goliath remained silent, watching the DA. Through the eyeholes of his mask, Erin could make out the eerie green glow of eyes. Something about them was too piercing, too bright to register as normal.

“I need to ask you a favor.”

Silence.

“I need to speak with Gorin. It’s important. Can you take me to her?”

The behemoth didn’t budge a muscle. Didn’t even appear to be breathing, and Erin felt static electricity prickle along the back of her neck the longer he stared down at her. What the hell was happening?

“The Underground is your home. I understand that, and I understand I’m not really welcome here. But something’s happening with Gorin. Holtzmann came to me four days ago worried sick about it. Please, all I want to do is help. Holtzmann is my friend. I care about her and—“

“ **What is she to you**?”

Goosebumps exploded down Erin’s arms. The voice rumbling in the space between them sounded like shifting boulders, deeper than deep. Had that really come from a man? Goliath tilted his head ever so slightly, pinning the woman with his green stare. Suddenly, it wasn’t so hard to believe the rumors about this man…

“She’s—she’s my friend,” Erin stuttered, taken aback by both the question and the person doing the questioning.

“ **A friend**?” It wasn’t a question more than it was an accusation like he could sense the woman was lying not only to him but herself.

“Yes, a friend. A dear friend. I—I—” Oh god, why was she saying all of this? Where was it coming from? Erin bit her tongue to keep from talking more, but she might as well have been trying to fix a broken pipe with packing tape. “I’ve come to care about her a lot over the past few months. We…we’ve become close, or so I’d like to think. I care about Jillian the way I’d care about—”

Divine relief rushed through her when Goliath turned away, breaking whatever spell he’d put over her like cutting a marionette’s strings. He began walking back up the tunnel, not waving for her to follow but not warding her off either. So Erin quickly gathered both her wits and her courage—steadying herself with a hand on the tunnel wall—and fell into step behind him, properly sweating through her makeup by this point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Erin has a bargaining chip and a need to see Gorin. This can't possibly end well XD Also, I know, I'm terrible with that dream sequence. Swear to god it's not the last time we'll get something like that, just a taste of things to come and maybe the beginning of a....bite fetish? Who know! ;) 
> 
> So what did you think? Take four seconds to let me know. Please and thank you.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a longer read with this one, but I think you'll like it

Just like her first encounter with the gigantic Undergrounder, Erin’s trek into the bowels of the earth was done entirely in silence. No banging. No calls. Goliath walked ahead of her with a smooth kind of grace uncommon to someone his size. Erin expected him to lumber. To sway with each step or to shuffle like a hunchback. Goliath barely made a sound, his presence more wraith than human, footfalls now completely stealthy.

“ _Are_ you human?”

Erin hadn’t realized the question slipped eel-quick past her thoughts and landed squarely on her tongue until it was too late. Freezing, she waited for him to react, to whip around, to growl or turn into some hideous monster. He did none of these things. Didn’t even stop walking, forcing Erin to hurry to catch up after her muscles thawed.

“ **Once** ,” the behemoth rumbled an undeterrable time later, again catching Erin off guard by how deep his voice was. At first, she thought Goliath was talking to himself until she realized he’d answered her question.

“Once?” Uncertainty nested in her stomach, making Erin squirm. Her thoughts skipped back to the conversation she had with Lucas: _I can tell you what he isn’t, and that thing ain’t human._

“ **I am flesh and blood but not human. I haven’t been human for over two hundred years.** ”

Erin stalled, muscles grinding to a halt. In the darkness, her eyes must have looked like saucers. What? _What?_ She didn’t know how to process this, scrambling for a mental grip. Was he being funny? Was this spoken seriously? Goosebumps crawled across her skin, seeking fingers of cold snagging the base of the brainstem, filling her with a primal chill until something settled, making the skin of Erin’s forehead crinkle.

“Did you—did you just quote Anne Rice’s _Interview with a Vampire_?”

Erin couldn’t see it, but when Goliath turned to regard her over his shoulder she’s sure he’s grinning behind his mask. It didn’t make it any better he tapped the side of his head in a faintly mocking gesture before continuing his methodical trek onward, leaving Erin to pick up the pieces of her shock, feeling like gullible should be written on the inside of her eyelids.

There were subtle differences, she noted, about the path they were currently on and the one Goliath lead her down when meeting Holtz in the Chamber of Echoes. They didn’t descend as far, taking a more winding track through tunnels that looked newer.

Not long after their brief exchange, Erin began picking up the faint tapping that proceeded the Underground. Strange how the sound was unconsciously comforting, like stepping through the front door after coming home from a long trip. She had to stop herself from momentarily leaning against a pipe and exhaling relief.   

When Goliath triggered a hidden door a few yards further down and stepped through, the tapping grew louder and the tunnels brighter, illuminated with hanging cage lights bolted to the wall. Five minutes later, Erin was walking through a corridor that took her breath away. Not because of the size but because of what was there.

Undeniably, this was a tent city. Everywhere Erin looked was a dwelling of some sort crafted from available materials. Some families had tents. Others had wooden structures like covered scaffolding. Others were more bizarre looking, but everything, regardless where her eyes fell, was impeccably clean.

No trash. No rats, largely due to the sheer amount of cats roaming around. No smell of fecal matter or urine. Just the lingering scent of damp stone and cook stoves preparing at least a dozen meals. This place felt like the beating artery of the Underground—a mini-city under the city—and the moment Erin and Goliath step foot along its path that pulse went still.

It was an eerie feeling walking behind the giant through a packed and once bustling hall to the sound of her heels echoing off stone walls. In any other setting, the click of high heels was a precursor of power for women, heralding her like a storm. Here, in the Underground, it might as well have been the slow staccato of an executioner, if the looks Erin spied peeking out at her from behind doors, flaps, and drapes were anything to go by.

Something chilling occurred to her as the two walked past the stunned onlookers, the sound of pipe tapping growing more frantic the further Erin went. Either Goliath was making a spectacle of leading the DA to her effective doom or he was ensuring Erin’s safety. If many eyes saw her, it meant if she went missing there would be witnesses.

 _Oh, Gilbert, you really do have a death wish,_ she agonized, feigning cool indifference when she was silently screaming.

The corridor was long—stretching for more than a mile before twisting off in another direction—but the rest of Erin’s walk was short, ending when Goliath turned a sharp corner and the two came face to face with the purpose of Erin’s trek down here. She’d already seen rage on Gorin’s face once before, but it was no less breathtaking a second time around.

The matron of the Underground stood braced in the doorway, hands gripping either side of the steel frame. The look she threw Goliath could have put Medusa to shame, but whatever poison she had loaded on her tongue remained there. Instead, the words that fell from her lips were like ice.

“I will take it from here, Goliath. You are no longer needed.”

It was a gentle dismissal, Erin noted, making her wonder if there was something Gorin actually feared in the Underground and if that something just happened to be the almost eight-foot behemoth. Goliath said nothing, taking his leave with the casual air of a man about to take a walk in the park.   

“What the hell gives you the right to trespass in my home and parade around like a show pony?”

 _Ah_ , Erin thought, suppressing a sigh, _there’s the venom_. “I need to speak with you.”

“I do not speak with trespassing Topsiders.”

Erin drew herself up, remembering the cards she held close to her chest. “If you have any shred of respect for your daughter, you will hear me out.”

Gorin stepped closer, invading Erin’s personal space. Even with heels on, the DA and the Underground matron were eye level, blue meeting hazel. “What threat are you to me?”

Stride for stride, Erin matched the woman, voice clinically cold. “If you wish to keep your relationship with Jillian, you will let me in, or I will say what I have to say to her personally.”

Her words had the intended effect. Gorin faltered, unable to accurately guess Erin’s next move. It didn’t take a genius to deduce Gorin wasn’t a gambling woman. She was too methodical. Planned everything out far too carefully to leave something to chance. The DA waited patiently, hands folded in front of her until the pressure of her implied threat became too much.

“Three minutes,” Gorin snarled through gritted teeth. “That’s all I’m willing to give. Say your peace and then get out.”

“This is a conversation best had behind closed doors.”

Without a word, Gorin spun back into her home. Erin followed, once again struck with an overwhelming sense of calm when the two moved into the main living area. It still smelled like how she remembered: old books, steeped tea, peppermint and pipe tobacco. Hard to believe she’d been away for almost three months. Hard to believe how drastically her life had changed in half a year.  

“Say what you have to say and leave.”

Gorin’s biting words brought Erin back to the present like a splash of cold water down her back. “We don’t need to be enemies. You know that right?”

“Is that what you’re going to waste your time telling me?” Gorin scoffed, pushing her reading glasses into her messy up-do.

“No, I’m starting the conversation that way because I think you need to hear it,” Erin frowned. “I know you don’t like me, and I’ve not given you a reason to, but we aren’t enemies. We’re not even acquaintances—“

“And we will keep it that way,” the older woman cut in. “I believed I made myself clear when I told you I wanted nothing to do with your kind. I never have. You and I will never be anything more than citizens to rivals worlds. The sooner you swallow that the better.”

 _Well then_ , Erin thought, straightening her overcoat with a few sharp tugs. _No use beating around the bush with false olive branches_. “Then I will make this brief and to the point. How long were you going to lie to your daughter?”

The question hit home, catching Gorin off guard and curtailing the burn of her anger. Her recovery, however, was quick.

“And what, pray tell, have I kept from her?” It was said with a haughty smugness that crawled under Erin’s skin and lit her bones on fire. She was already smoldering internally—had been since Holtz broke down in her apartment—and this wasn’t helping. Instead, it honed the edges of Erin’s tongue.

“The knowledge you’re dying from Huntington’s Disease.” Erin’s blunt answer was said without a shred of emotion save for scorn, and the blow struck home with all the power of a lethal right hook.

She had to commend Gorin on maintaining an Oscar-worthy poker face. Her expression might not have conveyed anything—smooth as lifeless marble—but there had been a tick, a flinch just slow enough to catch. It was there in the tightening of Gorin’s jaw. In the stiffening of her shoulders. In the way her body went just a shade too still.

“You have a great deal of nerve coming down here with accusations like that.”

“Yet I don’t sense any immediate denial,” Erin quipped, tilting her head just enough to convey the stretch of her skepticism.

“So this your sad attempt at baiting me into a conversation?” Gorin laughed tightly. “My, I thought you were better at this, what with you being a District Attorney and all. This is laughable and just a bit pathetic.”

“And I thought you cared more about your daughter than you proclaim, or is this some kind of misguided attempt at protecting Jillian from the truth of your own imminent mortality?”

The same kind of cold rage Erin had seen the day she’d discovered Holtzmann’s true face didn’t just flicker across Gorin’s features. It embedded in them, turning the woman into a seething mass of bunched muscles, a snarl just a step away.

“Get out.”

Erin contemplated spitting back the childish challenge of “make me” but refrained, steeling herself instead. “Prove me wrong.”

“I have nothing to prove to you.”

“I think you do.”

“No, I don’t think I do. This is my home. This is my world. You have no authority here, nor do you have a voice. You _are_ no one. You _have_ no one. And this convoluted idea you dreamed up isn’t only sad it’s sickening. We’re done. Get. Out.”

Gorin twisted away, making for the pipe to tap for Goliath but hardly made it three steps before her world shattered against five shouted words.

“Do not dismiss me, Rebecca!”

And just like that, a switch was thrown.

Throughout history, there were moments where time itself froze. It had been described in countless ways: the breath before a storm, the stilling of creation, the milliseconds before impact. This was the inhale outside the walls of Jericho. This was gravity reinstating itself at the edge of a crumbling cliff.   

Gorin didn’t merely freeze. She locked up, growing so still the loose fabric of her clothing ceased to move.

Erin bit sharply into the inside of her cheek. She hadn’t wanted to play that card yet, but anger made her slip. No going back now that she’d placed her pieces on the board.

“Yes, I know who you are,” Erin continued, quieter this time. “Doctor Rebecca Gorin, born in Boston, 1946. You taught at MIT, taking Abigale Lee Yates as your protégé. She was seventeen when she came to work with you and presumably died a year later.”

Erin may have prematurely played her queen, but she knew the match was far from won. And that knowledge made her pay attention. Made her look. Made her catch the slow movement of Gorin’s right arm as it reached for something hidden under her coat, spindly fingers curling around the G10 grip of the Glock she always carried.

“Think very carefully about your next move,” Erin warned, voice soft but loud enough to carry. Goliath had been right, and that thought terrified her. “You live in a metal tube where sound carries for miles and dozens of people saw me coming here.”

“What do you what?” Gorin rasped, back still turned, not daring to move.

“Only to talk.”

“There is nothing either of us needs to say to one another.” Her grip on the handle tightened, finger seeking and finding the safety and flicking it off.

Erin braced, laying out the last of her cards. “If you cross this threshold, you will lose your daughter forever. Jillian will never forgive you.”

Hesitation. Forestallment. Erin didn’t dare breath, but she could tell she’d struck a nerve.

“You speak as if you know her! As if you know me!” Gorin all but shrieked, staring at her over her shoulder, shaking like a branch in the wind. “And if you do, there is only one logical reason for that, and I can’t let you walk out of here alive.” She turned and the hand holding the silver gun swung down to her side. “I will not risk Jillian or myself. _Never again_.”

In the back of her mind—where sanity clearly had been shoved—Erin wondered how she’d gone from facing criminals in open court to staring down the barrel of a loaded gun. Twice. In one week. Metaphorically speaking, the life of a DA was spent moving from one possibly fatal encounter to the next, but somewhere in transition, Erin began actually placing herself in front of the firing squad.

What she saw before her today wasn’t a criminal. Instead, it was a woman teetering on the brink of terrified hysteria, eyes wide and dark. Fear like this was made. It was instilled in a person, driven in like nails in a coffin. Nothing Erin did or said at this point would prove her intentions—good or bad—to Gorin, so she did what she did best when a witness appeared lost. She changed the paradigm.

“I’m going to be straight with you, Rebecca,” Erin said, once again feigning calm when she was rapidly sweating through her blouse. “I know who you are because I hired a private investigator. We found you through an old MIT newspaper clipping of the day you took Abigale as your protégé. From there the research was fairly easy.”

“Why?” Gorin shook, voice barely above a whisper at this point. The gun, however, remained rock-steady.

Erin took a breath and let it out slowly, daring to cross her arms. “Because I wanted to know the woman responsible for raising Jillian. I wanted to unravel the mystery of why you are down here. Suffice to say, it’s in my nature as a DA to uncover things.”

“You had no right to any of that.”

“You’re right, I didn’t. And I would have kept this between my PI friend and myself had Jillian not come to my home four days ago terrified and bleeding.”

If Gorin lost any more color she’d become transparent, but while her skin lost its pallor her eyes blazed to life. “Why was she— _what happened to my daughter_?”

“You happened,” Erin accused. Gorin sputtered, trying to find traction, but Erin was better equipped. “Your lies almost ended her life. She was called Topside to retrieve an order from one of your Helpers. An order placed by Jeremiah Taft. Yes, I know his name too. The package was a brick of marijuana and antichorea medication Lucas Pine lifted from a pharmacy. Lucas was being followed by the police who suspected him of drug trafficking. Jillian intercepted Lucas, and they were in turn intercepted by the police. Lucas has been placed under arrest for assaulting an officer trying and succeeding in making sure your daughter escaped.”

The knowledge closed around Gorin like a snap-trap, dragging her into murky waters where up and down meant very little. Swaying on her feet, the older woman lost her grip on her gun, the weapon clattering to the floor. Erin feared Gorin might actually collapse. Instead, she sank into the first available chair, losing almost all of her bravado in the process.

“How long?” she breathed, eyes wide behind her spectacles as she focused on the floor. Erin guessed what the question was referring to.

“A few months. We’ve met sparingly since my return Topside.”

Rising, Gorin moved unsteadily across the room. It took her several tries through the shaking of her hands to get the glass of water to her lips and the pill down her throat. When at last she could properly breathe and think again—the medication quick to move through her system—some time had passed. Though it all, Erin remained standing and quiet, watching.

“What are you to my daughter?” Gorin asked, returning to her chair.

And here it was, the unavoidable but unwanted question.

 _I don’t know!_ Erin wanted to shout because it was the truth. She didn’t know what she was to Holtzmann other than a friend. But that wasn’t entirely true. Not when her heart fluttered at the thought of her, and her body throbbed at the need for something more carnal. So where did the lines cross? Where _was_ the line, was probably a better question.

“I count her as a close friend,” Erin answered in half-truths.

“You’ve hardly spent any time with her, yet you consider yourselves close?”

Erin sensed the challenge and met it head on, tired of being webbed by other people’s assumptions. “Yes, I do. And do you know why? Because for three months every night Jillian would sit at my bedside while I writhed in pain and eased the lonely agony by reading to me. She would tell me stories about her adventures down here. She showed me her lab and the hydroelectric machine she’s been building for three years. She talked with me, laughed with me, held my hand when the pain stole my voice and didn’t once look at me like you’re looking at me now. Like I’m the scum under your shoe. Jillian cared for me at every turn, even when I didn’t deserve her care because of the terrible things I said to her the first time I saw her face. So yes, I’ve come to care for her deeply. In her, I believe I’ve found a true friend, and if that angers you, prove to me you truly are a Topsider at heart and shoot me dead.” 

Why was she breathing deeply? When had she moved? Erin came back to herself and realized she’d crossed half the distance of the small room. The older woman looked poised to counter an attack—hands braced on the arms of chair and elbows bent—but her expression puzzled Erin. Surprise. Genuine surprise. It was such an alien thing to see on a face usually set in an empirical sneer or scowling in anger.

“Do you feel better?” Gorin asked, cocking an eyebrow. The question was likely meant as a dig, but Erin registered it as an uneasy concern.

“I…” the DA took a breath, deflating and turning in profile. “That’s a hard question to answer honestly.”

“It’s either a yes or a no.”

“It’s complicated,” Erin sighed, earning her a squinted look from the older woman. Sensing a momentary dip in the tension, Erin loosened the coil of her body. “Would it be alright if I sat with you?”

“You already invaded my home,” Gorin snorted.

“Yet here I am asking permission rather than taking what I want,” Erin fired back. Gorin didn’t verbally answer, waving instead at a nearby chair.

Taking a seat, Erin allowed herself a chance to expel the angry tension of her body—never mind there was a gun still sitting on the floor between them. It was quite some time before the thread of conversation was renewed, catching the DA by surprise.

“I inherited the disease from my mother,” Gorin began hesitantly, staring down at her hands. She didn’t recognize them anymore. Wizened and knobby, they were the hands of an old, frail woman. At fifty-seven, Gorin should have had more life left in her, but she didn’t. Not anymore.

“At the time, there wasn’t a way to test if a child genetically contracted the disease. My…symptoms didn’t present themselves for many years. When they did it—it was already too late.”

Erin felt her chest tighten. She’d come down here expecting a fight. Wanting it, actually, after what Gorin put Jillian through just to keep a secret. But seeing her like this, seeing past the cold, hard mask made Erin realize Gorin was just as terrified of her own mortality as Holtzmann was of losing her mother.

“But that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to fight. It became my life’s work searching for a reasonable treatment.”

“That’s what you were doing at MIT,” Erin nodded, fitting the puzzle pieces together.

Gorin shot her a look, clearly disliking having someone privy to such intimate knowledge without her personally providing the information. “Yes,” was all the answer she gave, refusing to elaborate further.

“And Abby?”

“A brilliant microbiologist.”

“What happened that day?” Erin hedged, scooting closer to the edge of her seat. “Why did the lab explode?”

It was too much of a probe too soon. Erin watched the older woman immediately close herself off, face becoming a marble mask once again. “You are not privy to my life and all it’s happenings regardless of who you think you are, Miss Gilbert.”

Erin took the rebuke, sensing she’d overstepped. “I’m sorry. I won’t ask again.”

“See to it you don’t.”

“My grandmother died of Huntington’s,” Erin admitted when the conversation began to lag into an uncomfortable silence. Gorin gave her a look that made it plain she didn’t believe. “Roll your eyes all you want, I’m not here to convince you. She died in her sixties but she…it was difficult watching her succumb to it. My mother—“ here Erin faltered, licking her lips as if to help lubricate the rough words that came next. “We think she died because of the onset of the disease. She’d tested positive for it. It was a heart attack that killed her when I was in my teens. She fell down the stairs as a result of it, which is what my father believed was the cause of death until the autopsy report came back. I tested negative for contraction, but you always wonder, right? If it’s not cancer that kills us it’s something else.”

Erin pawed at the moisture building in the corner of her eyes, aware she was being watched very closely.

“I am…sorry for your loss.”

She hadn’t said what she said to garner sympathy, but the clinical condolences made her smile wanly and nod. “Thank you.”

“And thank you for…caring for my daughter when she was in need.”

Erin could tell Gorin was attempting to offer thanks but couldn’t help notice the bitter inflection to her voice. “You need to be straight with Jillian, Rebecca.” She didn’t miss how Gorin flinched at the sound of her first name. “She deserves to know what’s going on. Especially since she isn't your biological daughter. She needs to know your story.”

“And I will tell her everything in due time,” she said, absently picking at a loose thread on her coat. “Not before.”

“When?” Erin pressed. “When she gets caught Topside again trafficking the drugs you need to stay alive? Or when she finds you collapsed in one of these tunnels? Or perhaps when she finds you dead in your own bed?”

“Enough!” Gorin shouted, slapping her armrest. “This matter does not concern you in the slightest. I don’t care what you are to my daughter, you do not have the right to demand such things from me. This is my body and my disease! I will share its presence when I am ready.”

“This isn’t all about you, Rebecca,” Erin scowled. “You have a duty to your daughter to be truthful regardless of your own fears. She’s not ignorant to the fact something’s happening to you. She’s scared! She needs to know and hear this from her mother rather than a coroner.”

“Your concerns have been noted,” Gorin rumbled, signaling an end to the conversation. Erin sighed, fighting from rubbing her eyes. She knew arguing further would be like beating her head against a brick wall. In fact, she’d probably get farther with the wall.

“I think it’s time you took your leave.”

Mouth suddenly dry, Erin turned ever so slightly in her chair. “I would like to see Jillian before I go.”

“And I would like you to never have contact with my daughter ever again.”

“You and I both know that’s not how this works. Jillian is a grown adult capable of making her own decision, which is something you need to start respecting.”

“And should her decision put her in harm’s way, what then? What is a mother to do?”

“Trust her,” Erin implored, standing. “Trust that she knows how to make the right decision.”

“I do trust her,” Gorin replied icily. “I don’t trust you.”

“I can accept that, but keeping Jillian caged down here is doing nothing for her. All she wants is a life of her own, and if that means making mistakes, so be it.”

“Those mistakes could be the end of her.” There was a warning Erin detected attached to the Undergrounder’s words, but for the life of her she couldn’t puzzle it out.

“Then let me extend an olive branch and show you I mean neither you nor your daughter any harm. I will free Lucas Pine from legal prosecution. It is within my power to do so, even if I don’t like doing it.” Never mind the fact she'd already done this, but Gorin wouldn't know.

“Let me guess. As payment, because nothing in life is free, you get to see my daughter.”

Erin struggled to keep from smiling. This was, after all, her game. “If that’s how you’d like to approach this, then yes.”

“Blackmail. I thought that was beneath you,” Gorin snorted, standing.

“Call it a deal. I would free him whether or not you agreed to this because it’s the right thing to do for all the wrong reasons. I care about your daughter, which means by proxy I care about you and your home. You all saved my life. It’s the least I could do. I can also...make certain he has access to the medication you need so something like this doesn't happen again. Your call.”

Game. Set. Match.

Erin watched the wheels in Gorin’s head turn, pleased by the direction things were going.

“I don’t believe I need to tell you what will happen to you if something happens to my daughter.”

“I have an active imagination,” Erin chuckled.

“No, my dear, you do not,” Gorin deadpanned. “Jillian is my world. You are nothing but a distant star, and I will snuff you out in the most remarkably painful way if something happens to her.”

And not for one second did Erin not believe that to be the truth. “You have my word.”

“Which means nothing from your kind,” Gorin sniffed. “Jillian is in her lab. I trust you know the way.”    

Which Erin did, only getting turned around once or twice. Luckily, Holtz loved to play music while she worked. Today it was the deep throb and wonderful synthetics of a specific 80’s techno Erin recognized instantly—if not a little bashfully. Ladyhawke. It was one of her favorite trashy 80’s movies, and Holtz was listening to the soundtrack.

Standing in the doorway, Erin watched the Undergrounder bounce around, blonde hair swaying in time with the beat. In her hands she twirled a lit blowtorch, soldering to the techno rhythm as she climbed with nimble ease into her humming machine. Lost in her element, Erin couldn’t help notice how unconventionally beautiful Holtzmann was, and a thrill worked through her, mind skipping back to earlier that morning.

Ice and fire shot through Erin’s veins, making her warm smile falter. Confusion crinkled her brow, making her heart race for all the wrong reasons. What, honestly, was she doing? What right did she have down here? And what right did she have with Holtzmann…a woman who could never truly move beyond the Underground?

 _If you do this, there’s no going back,_ she heard a voice whisper. _If you start you cannot stop because you know it would destroy her if you did. You’re treading a thin ice, Gilbert, toying with the emotions of someone far more sheltered than you. If this is lust, sate that desire elsewhere. If this is something more…well then, start the dance._

Fear made her shake because she didn’t know--couldn’t find the line--because it wasn’t as easy as walk or stay. She knew that. Struggled with it. Watched this strange woman dance around her lab and agonized over what to do until finally she had to make a move or combust.

“Hey,” she called, loud enough to be heard over the music, leaning casually against the doorframe. It was like someone put glue under Holtzmann’s boots. She jerked to a stop mid-step and whipped around.

 _Erin? What…_ Holtzmann’s eyes darted around, clearly looking for her mother or Abby. Rushing forward, she took Erin’s hands and walked her gently into the lab. _What are you doing here?_

“Funny story,” Erin began, blushing a bit. “I needed to talk to your mother about something.”

Holtz’s eyes almost popped out of her head. _Please tell me you didn’t—_

“I did," Erin confirmed, raising a finger. "I had to, Holtz. She was going to find out about me at some point, and I also needed her to know that I got Lucas out of jail. I’ll be handling his case from here on out--”

Erin’s breath whooshed from her when Holtz wrapped her in a crushing hug, squeezing with all her might—which there was a shocking amount of.

_Thank you. Erin, thank you so much. I’ve been so worried about him!_

“I figured,” Erin smiled, hugging her back, feeling her heart warm but unable to shake the unease still squatting there.

 _Can you stay?_ Holtz asked eagerly, eyes lighting up when she pulled away. _Even just for a little while?_

“I’ve got the whole rest of the night free,” Erin grinned. “Show me around?”

Clicking off her music and throwing away her lab coat, Holtz put out her arm, _It would be my pleasure. What would you like to see first?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, the secret's out in more ways than one now (wince). 
> 
> Please take four seconds and let me know what you thought.


	28. Chapter 28

The Underground, as it turned out, was a much larger place than Erin initially realized. She wasn’t necessarily shocked by this—it was a subterranean community existing in old tunnels—but some of the passages and corridors looked positively _ancient_. And the whole complex seemed to go on for miles in either direction, including down.

Holtzmann excitedly gave Erin her first official guided tour, taking her by the hand and proudly showing the DA the wonders she’d grown up with, garnering stares wherever they went. There seemed to be no end to the intrepid whimsy of Holtzmann’s home. Truly, the Underground was a world all its own, and Holtzmann spared little recounting her tales of growing up in the tunnels.

_I had plenty of room to run, lots to explore, and a very big imagination. There was always Mother and Abby or Taft nearby to keep me company. Goliath too, so that led to a lot of adventures._

That certainly pulled Erin up short. “He’s been down here since you were a child?”

 _Well, yeah,_ Holtz shrugged, skipping over a large fissure in the concrete and pausing to help Erin jump over. They were headed to one of Holtz’s favorite waterfalls. _Goliath always was and always will be. He was here before Mother founded the Underground._

The blonde laughed, remembering something. _Abby told me the first time Mother met Goliath was shortly after she came down here. She and Abby were out in the lower tunnels working. Mother had me in a carrier and set it down to look at something. I’d been crying and then all of a sudden I wasn’t. Abby said she and Mother both turned around and there was Goliath crouched over my carrier. Neither of them saw or heard him walk up. Kinda imagine that scared the shit out of them both seeing him for the first time like that._

Erin’s eyes were as wide open as her mouth. “He just appeared out of nowhere and started playing with you?”

_So I’ve been told._

“Jesus, that’s terrifying.”

_According to Abby, Mother almost shot him._

Now that Erin could believe. “I’d think about doing the same thing, too.”

 _Nah, Goliath is harmless,_ Holtz waved away. _He’s saved my ass more than once. That’s really the only reason Mother trusts him. When I was three, I went missing for almost four days. Wandered off too far and got turned around. Goliath found me stuck in a pipe I’d fallen into and brought me home._

The nonchalance Holtzmann told these stories with made Erin truly stop and look at the woman. How different had their worlds been? How different were they still?

It took weeks for Erin to learn even a tenth of all the nooks and crannies in this subterranean kingdom, each new discovery a revelation all its own. There were rooms like the Chamber of Echoes were you could hear the beating heart of New York echoing through the pipes like not-so-distant conversation. There were cisterns turned communal bath—Erin was mildly perturbed to learn the entire time she was in the Underground healing hot baths were within walking distance. There were small nooks carved out by past Undergrounders dedicated to places of worship, some elaborately decorated, votive candles still burning in some. There were deep caverns under the bedrock of the city lined with microscopic crystals that turned lamplight into living fire across the walls.    

Holtzmann showed Erin everything—when the two weren’t held up in her lab or room, the DA exploring her endless assortment of knickknacks—their time spent together bringing the two closer like revolving magnets: just out of touch but pulling towards one another, internally straining across the distance.

Erin soaked up Holtzmann’s stories and excited explanations, lighter than she’d been in months. Happier than she had been in years, and the change in her demeanor didn’t go unnoticed. Patty—kept relatively out of the loop of Erin’s budding relationship—told her she smiled more and was quick to laugh and joke, picking up on Holtz’s humor. Even Phillip remarked Erin looked happier, believing his friend had finally taken his advice and found herself a steady partner.

“It’s nothing like that,” Erin flushed, keeping her eyes on the docket she was typing up. “We’re just friends, but it’s nice to have someone to talk to.”

Friends. A quaint title that didn’t really live up to its label. Erin and Holtzmann were certainly more than just friends at this point. Friends didn’t hold hands during long walks, comfortable in the silence with one another. Friends didn’t share kisses in dark tunnels, chaste at first but bolder as the weeks dragged on. Friends certainly didn’t make the heat in each other’s bellies roll like a furnace, tightening muscles better suited for other activities.

No, they were not friends, but they weren’t lovers either. Erin was adamant about not crossing that line until…well, she didn’t exactly give herself a timeline to follow. This wasn’t her first rodeo, so to speak, but it was Holtzmann’s. Erin still worried, deep in the shadowy part of her mind, this was just curiosity of the strange and unusual. So no, she’d toe the line between friendship and whatever else this was until her mind was made up and she could decide where to step.

Wishful thinking, of course. Fight as she might, Erin was falling hard and fast, but she could coerce herself into believing otherwise. It was, after all, her profession to lie.

“So where exactly are we?” she wondered early one Saturday evening in June, keeping pace with her guide who had been uncharacteristically mum about their trek.

_Deep in the lower tunnels._

“I got that,” Erin rolled her eyes. “Where are you taking me?”

 _It’s a surprise,_ Holtz grinned over her shoulder, hands shoved into the pockets of her stained overalls. Over the opposite shoulder, she carried a silver duffel bag.

Erin wasn’t necessarily suspicious. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She _was_ suspicious but due more to Holtz’s unwillingness to share the location of their destination.

Trailing her hands along the smooth walls, Erin was starting to gather an understanding of the tunnel systems. The cooler and grayer the cement, the younger the tunnels. The warmer the color—like honeyed sand—the older the passages. This told Erin they were indeed in some of the older sections of Holtzmann’s home.

It was another ten minutes before Holtz called a stop, motioning Erin through a narrow opening in the rock that looked more crack than door.

 _Do you trust me?_ she suddenly asked, spinning to face her friend.

“The fact you’re asking me that while holding our only source of light worries me,” Erin frowned.

_Be that as it may, do you trust me?_

“With my life.” It wasn’t cheap sentiment or a pretty lie. Erin meant every word and the gravity of them crackled like electricity between the two.

_Okay good. Don’t move._

And then all of creation was darkness.

Erin had to commend Holtzmann on her night vision because she was now absolutely blind. She could hear the other woman shuffling around doing something in the dark. When the clink of glass met Erin’s ears she frowned.

“Holtz?”

_Just a second!_

“It’s uh…very dark.”

There was a pause in the activity. _Are you afraid of the dark?_

Erin scoffed, hiding her unease. The correct answer would have been ‘yes, kind of’. Instead, she said, “No, it’s just a little unsettling standing in complete darkness while my friend scuttles around like a bat.”

_Nah, I don’t have eyes like Abby. It’s even dark for me. I just know this area really well._

“Eyes like…what does that mean?”

_Abby sees like a bat._

“You mean she’s _blind_ as a bat.”

_No, I mean she actually sees like a bat._

Erin’s brow scrunched. “But she’s blind…”

 _Sort of blind,_ Erin could hear the shrug in Holtzmann’s voice. _Medically, yes, she’s completely blind, but whatever happened to her when she initially went blind caused some cool side effects. She can see via sound. That’s why she’s always tapping on things when she walks. Helps her see. Okay…I think that’s it. Watch your eyes cause here…we…go._

Erin hissed at the sudden overhead illumination—hand raised against the glare driving hot lances driven into her eyes—but the moment she adjusted her jaw hit the floor. It was a common occurrence now.

 _Welcome to 724 Underground!_ Holtz beamed, throwing out her arms.

The chamber was large—capable of holding thirty people comfortably—and looked frozen in time. Old incandescent cage lights—rewired and glowing with new bulbs—hung from wires in the ceiling. Dusty wooden tables and high-backed stools studded the floor directly in front of a squatty bar made up of nothing more than two barrels and a plank of wood. But behind that bar, lining three of the four walls, were wooden racks supporting well over a hundred dark bottles. 

Simply put, this was an old speakeasy nestled deep in the Underground.

“Holtzmann,” Erin laughed, turning slowly to take everything in. From somewhere unseen, upbeat jazz played, furthering the illusion of time travel. “How did you find this?”

 _Like I find most of the things down here,_ she shrugged, rolling up the sleeves of her white button up. Erin realized Holtzmann had traded her favorite work attire—overalls and a baggy lab coat—for an outfit plucked directly from the closet of a 30’s bartender: vest and slacks included.

 _Lady’s choice tonight,_ Holtz said, sweeping into an animated series of gestures at the racks behind her. _Rum, scotch, gin, hooch, whiskey…whatever your heart desires._

“You certainly know a way to a lawyers heart,” Erin smiled in gleeful delight.

 _What can I say?_ Holtz replied with a saucy shoulder wiggle. _I’m good at reading people._

“I say to that, put your money where your mouth is,” Erin challenged, sliding closer.

 _Rum and coke is always a favorite these days, and you strike me as a mixed drink kind of woman,_ Holtz hummed, tapping her chin as she dragged her fingers across the dark bottles along a lower rack. _Gin and tonic was more common during prohibition. Or we could stick with the classic favorite, whiskey on the rocks. We’ll stay away from the moonshine so neither of us goes blind. Give it to Abby instead. She’s already there._

Erin tilted her head, liking the assortment so far. “I’m impressed. You’ve done your research, though I don’t see any coke—“ Holtzmann retrieved a thermos from her bag, setting it lightly between them. “Of course you came prepared.”

 _This is me we’re talking about._ Off-handedly, Holtz withdrew a small silver flask from her vest pocket and took a pull, failing to notice Erin’s quirked eyebrow as the blonde inspected the shelves for the bottle she needed.

“Care to share?” Holtz glanced over her shoulder, expression questioning. “The flask,” Erin clarified, pointing.

The blonde gave her a wink as she took another pull, proceeding to put the flask away, but Erin was feeling playful and a touch bold. Moving swiftly, she snatched the silver flask with nimble grace.

_Hey!_

Hooting in victory, Erin twirled away before Holtzmann could make a grab at her. “You’ve got me curious! What in here?”

 _Nothing of consequence,_ she squeaked, taking chase.

“See, now I know you’re lying.”

Using her height to her advantage, Erin dodged another swipe and took a swig from the flask expecting something altogether different than what hit her tongue.

“Is this grape juice?” she frowned. Holtzmann finally caught up and snatched it back, stuffing it into her coat pocket with a disgruntled grumble.

 _We were all out of apple juice,_ she muttered, heading back to the bar. Erin followed, more than a little bemused.

“That’s some hard stuff,” she giggled. “I’m not sure I want you hitting the bottle so early. We might not make it back tonight.”

_I’m allergic to alcohol._

For a moment, Erin thought Holtzmann was joking, but the strangely serious set of her face told her otherwise. “Really?”

_Yeah, I’ve never been able to drink it. Tried a bunch of times when I found places like this. I might not live Topside, but I know what liquor is. Every time I drink it, I go into this weird form of anaphylaxis. Face gets hot. Throat gets tight. Can’t really breathe well. Pain in my stomach._

“Jesus,” Erin exhaled, leaning back.

_Yep, so I’m relegated to the kid's table for life. Doesn’t mean I can’t show a pretty girl a good time._

“Is that to say, you intend on getting me drunk tonight, Miss Holtzmann?” Erin teased, resting her chin on the heel of her palm.

 _I would never. Good times can be had without getting shitfaced. And it’s not necessarily fair when one of us gets forced being the Designated Guide while the other has all the fun,_ she said with another playful wink.

“So sensible. I like that.”

Sharply straightening her vest, Holtzmann regained her suave air and leaned casually against the counter, one side of her mouth quirking up. _So rum and coke was the choice, eh?_

“You can’t drink liquor but you can mix?”

 _Chemistry is chemistry, love._ Erin tried not to twitch at the word or the purr in the other woman’s voice. _Doesn’t matter if it’s corrosive chemicals or booze. And I might not be able to swallow but that doesn’t impede the use of my tongue._ Holtzmann was skirting close to a line and pushing where she had no reason to push, but this new adventure sparked the daredevil side of herself in unperceived ways.

Oh, Erin would have smacked that smug grin off the blonde’s face if her lower stomach wasn't banking heat like a smith’s fire that steadily made its way up to her neck and face. Snippets of the dream she’d had came back, phantom sensations playing in areas they had no business visiting.

“Well then,” she coughed to hide her flush. “By all means.”

Holtz cracked open a dark, squatty bottle after clearing the dust and poured the proper amounts, adding ice from another thermos when she was done. Erin took a tentative drink and hummed appreciatively, closing her eyes against the burn.

“Oh, that’s good.”

 _Circa 1922. Eighty years old and only getting better with age._ Retrieving her flask again, she raised a toast. _To new beginnings and happier endings._

“To new friends and fresh possibilities.” They clinked glasses, both wearing similar grins. “You know,” Erin ventured after a few more swallows, sucking her teeth and becoming blessedly warm. The soft jazz certainly helped with the mellowing of her mood. “You’re pretty much sitting on a goldmine.”

_How do you figure?_

“Seriously?” Erin gaped, abandoning her drink so she could come around to inspect one of the bottles. “Most of these are eighty years old, but I’m willing to guess there are some stretching into their early hundreds. Do you know how much a bottle of eighty-year-old rum or scotch goes for in most establishments?”

_Asks the woman to the woman who has lived her entire life looking up and not down._

“Smartass,” Erin scoffed, rolling her eyes. “A couple hundred dollars a bottle, easy.”

_Well damn. When I finally decide to fly the coop, I’ll just sell what’s here and buy a modest home Topside. Might even let you live there._

“My, how generous.”

 _Just how Mother raised me,_ she said cheekily—fangs flashing. Setting aside her less than adventurous drink—mostly to hide the burn settling in her cheeks and the shake of her hands— Holtz reached down and turned up the sound on the boombox next to her foot, smooth jazz filling the small room like an ambient cloud. It took one look for Erin to catch the bashful query in the other woman’s expression, a slow smile showing off her teeth.

“Is this your invitation to dance?” she asked, eyeing the hand offered to her.

_Like I said, its lady’s choice. To swing or not to swing._

Erin softened, seeing her friend’s unease, and slid her hand into Holtzmann’s. “That is the question, isn't it? Well then, I thought you’d never ask.”

It had been years since the DA last danced. Though she was out of practice—ten years of rust making her feet reluctant to find the rhythm—she laughed and jumped through the movements, lightheaded and loose, time meaning nothing as they traveled back to simpler years.

They twirled and dipped until Erin was successfully flushed and helplessly giggling—drink and dance filling her with a helium. If not for Holtzmann’s grip she might have floated away. _All the better,_ she thought, content in a mild liquor haze. _It makes giving in so much easier._

Still grinning and giggling like fools, the two took their leave after a few more drinks—Erin convinced Holtzmann to bring two bottles back with them for Patty—weaving their way into the younger tunnels with hopes of listening to the tail end of Phantom before Erin returned Topside. Arm in arm, their laughter and Erin’s singing preceding them for miles to come. It would have been a lovely way to end the evening had the cage lights illuminating their path not suddenly strobed, plunging the tunnel into revolving intervals of darkness.

 _Shit!_ Holtz spun in place, eyes on the walls.

“Is the power going out?” Erin squinted, tipsy but not impeded enough for it to affect her basic deduction skills. Beside her, Holtzmann’s previous mirth evaporated.

 _No_. _That's an intruder alarm,_ she explained in a rush, taking Erin by the hand and pulling her along at a faster clip.

“Intruder?” the DA parroted back, adrenaline burning away the fog of her inebriation. “What does that mean?”

_We have centuries in the tunnels who keep watch for trespassers. Sometimes a homeless person strays too far and gets lost. Sometimes it’s a gang._

Erin vaguely recalled Abby mentioning something about trouble with gangs in the upper tunnels, but they were deeper down, right? She said as much, prompting a quick shake of the head from Holtz.

_If the silent alarm is going off it means they’ve managed to get past a century and into the main tunnels. We need to hide._

Taking a hairpin corner, Holtz sought and found a fat pipe running like a branchless tree trunk through the concrete and put her ear to it, listening. Messages were already spitting through the pipes. People were scrambling. But where…

**Intruders in lower tunnels. Spotted heading south. Near Bismark tunnel.**

_Shit!_ Of course they were in their tunnel. Of course.

 **Holtzmann tapping. Holtzmann tapping,** she replied, using a small wrench she always kept on her person. **In Bismark tunnel with companion. Need assistance. Send Goliath.**

 _We need to hide,_ Holtz said, moving along the tunnel wall, looking for something. _They can’t see us._

“They might not be violent,” Erin tried to reason, brain struggling to catch up with the current situation.

 _Towards you, possibly. Me?_ Erin saw something pass over Holtzmann’s face, a memory that reeked of fear. _I don’t want to take that chance. We’re also two women alone in the tunnels. That’s not a good combination._

Erin felt her stomach drop, liquor souring. “Point taken.”

She should know better. What was more dangerous than a pack of adolescents with anonymity and the distinct lack of incrimination? Lord of the Flies came to mind, and the thought made Erin shiver.

Without any indication of where exactly the gang had been spotted—the Bismark tunnel extending for half a mile before branching off in several directions—Holtzmann led Erin as quickly and as silently as possible towards one of those branches. If they could get to a divergent hatch they’d be home free but plans rarely work out so seamlessly.

Not more than a hundred yards ahead, the echoing whoops and cries of possibly a dozen bodies drifted towards them like wraiths in the shadows. Erin felt her heart make the leap into her throat, a new kind of terror taking root. She wondered if this was what Indiana Jones felt running through the temple with a boulder chasing him.

Before the gang could reach them, however, Holtzmann unceremoniously shoved Erin into a tight alcove between pipes, using her bulk and dark clothes as added camouflage. Unless someone took the time to really look, they would only see darkness…or so she prayed.

The alcove was tight and smelled like stale dust and mold, but it did the trick. Thirty seconds later a whooping band of teenagers rushed past, dragging something heavy along the pipe-covered walls, yelling excitedly just to hear the echo. The noise combined with the metallic clanging was positively assaulting. Holtz curled tighter around Erin as if trying to shield her from the sound, grinding her teeth against the pain, fighting back a snarl that bared her fangs. Erin did her best impression of a statue, not even daring to breathe. 

Like a squall at sea, the danger passed as quickly as it had come—youthful legs carrying the gang towards their collision with the Underground’s main enforcer—but Holtzmann didn’t budge. Not yet. She couldn’t.

This didn’t escape Erin’s notice. Neither did the fact they were all but pressed against each other, one of Holtzmann’s arms wrapped protectively around her shoulders while the other was braced against the wall to further shield her. It didn’t escape her notice how the height difference between them had vanished, bringing her so close she could faintly smell a mix of mint and grape juice on Holtzmann’s breath. So close her body heat warmed Erin’s front like a friction fire. So close the magnetic pull between them snapped, bodies crashing together, instinct and adrenaline guiding muscle movement.

The kiss wasn’t light like it used to be—barely a brushing of lips like ships passing in the night. This had gravity behind it. This was flint against iron, waking sparks and the hungry burn of a brushfire caught in the grip of a relentless wind.

Erin’s world began to change, the shift felt in her bones like a low note, humming in her marrow. Holtz’s body bowed towards her in an answering call. Yes, this was the beginning of something. The blurring of a line she’d drawn in the sand.

Hands sought and found flesh, fingers tracing the familiar lines of jaw and neck, tangling in hair and clothes…claws catching and pulling fabric.

Erin pulled back, cutting the current locking them together. They were both breathless and undoubtedly flushed. Holtzmann’s breathing rattled with a sound like light growls, and Erin had to physically squeeze her body closed to cap the hot arousal bubbling to the surface…and soaking her underwear.

“Do you think it’s safe?” she ventured, voice a whisper in the dark. They were nose to nose, barely enough room between their bodies to fit a piece of paper.

 _Safe?_ Holtzmann echoed fuzzily.

“Safe to move,” she clarified, gaze flicking from Holtz’s lips to her darkened cobalt eyes and back again. “Do you think the gang left?”

 _Oh!_ Holtz shifted around, allowing the dim light of the tunnels to pour into the alcove. Turning back, she bit her lip at the sight of Erin, hair mussed and wild, eyes topaz and shinning, clothing wrinkled. She looked for too long, but the DA didn’t seem to mind, her own eyes tracking similarly.

_Seems clear._

“Good.”

Holtzmann didn’t anticipate being backed out of the alcove and pushed up against the far tunnel wall, Erin’s hands winding into her hair, lips mashing against hers. The flick of her tongue across Holtz’s bottom lip was both provocation and prayer, one Holtz met eagerly, letting their tongues twine with a moan. Erin tasted like spiced rum, coke, tea, and something altogether _her._ If intoxication could be experienced second-hand, Holtzmann gladly drank her fill, losing herself to the new sensations running rampant. Electricity sparked in her veins, straining her muscles, making her gasp, making her arch, the touch of Erin’s fingers like lightning against the bare skin of her stomach. When they brushed the waistband of her pants, Holtz felt the accompanying thunder.     

It was a marvelous high but she was souring too fast. There was too much to keep track of. Her hands wanted to wander and reciprocate, fingers curling, fabric splitting under her nails, skin reddening under the tips. Her mouth wanted to find the pulse of Erin’s throat and hunker there, bruising skin with teeth and tongue, but her fangs were sharp. _She_ was sharp and dangerous and _different…_

 _Erin, I’m not…_ Holtzmann struggled, panting against the urges rising like a tide in her blood, head thrown back. _I haven’t—I don’t know how to—_

Erin immediately froze, pumping the breaks hard enough she almost gave them both whiplash.

“I sorry,” she exhaled, forehead against Holtzmann’s shoulder, grappling with restraint when all she wanted was to lose herself in this moment. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pushed.”

_No, no, don’t apologize. I don’t want you to stop but—_

“This is all new,” Erin filled in, smile tight-lipped despite her internal disappointment. Holtzmann nodded, doing her best to keep her shaking hands at her sides. There was so much she wanted to do, to touch, to explore, but there was so much about her that could cause more harm than good. She didn’t know where to even begin, old fears bubbling to the surface.

 _I want this. I do. God,_ she exhaled, puffing out her cheeks, _I really do, but—_

“Hey, you don’t need to explain yourself,” Erin reassured, backing off to give them both air. A sudden spike of guilt chilled her, making her feel dirty. She’d pushed without permission. “You say stop and we stop. I’m sorry, I got a little overzealous. That was totally on me. It won’t happen again.”

 _It’s fine, Erin,_ Holtz tried to reason, reaching out only for her hand to meet open air. _I’m not upset._

“Okay.”

Despite the kindness and reassurance, Holtzmann caught a glimpse of strain and disappointment on the other woman’s face and couldn’t help feeling her stomach cramp. Had she just ruined something? Had she insulted her friend? _Were_ they friends or something more?

“Should we get out of here before they come back?” Erin asked, breaking the awkward tension.

_Yeah, Goliath is going to handle it and sometimes that gets messy._

“I…you know what? I don’t even want to know,” Erin shivered, turning to straighten her skewed shirt and mussed hair.

_Probably for the best. Do you want to stay a little longer or…_

“Well, you did promise we’d finish _Prisoner of Azkaban_ this week. Are you up for a little narration?”

 _I can’t believe you’re getting so into these books!_ Holtz cackled, putting the uneasy feeling behind her and trying to live in the moment.

“I’m just as shocked, believe me. Fantasy was never my cup of tea growing up, but the story is so well done and engrossing! JK really tapped into something great.”

_Well, I’m glad I can introduce you to a whole new world._

“Was that an Aladdin reference?”

 _God, you’re such a nerd._ Holtz grinned, dancing away from a light swat. _Oh, speaking of musicals, remind me I need to see if I can shift the pipes in the Echoes over to the Gershwin Theater. There’s a new Broadway getting a lot of buzz lately. Have you heard anything about it? A little play called Wicked?_

Erin’s smile grew positively luminescent, mirroring Holtzmann’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy, this chapter underwent a couple of serious changes before I was happy enough to publish it. I think, once again, I'm back on the right track of thing. But oh, how our babies suffer, no? Growing pains and all. New beginnings and the fear of them. So much more to come.
> 
> Okay my lovelies, you know the drill. Please take two minutes out of your day and let me know what you thought with a review. Please and thank you.


	29. Chapter 29

“So you gonna spill what’s crawled up your ass and died or do I need to do what I do best and start digging into your private life?”

Erin paused, bottle half-way to her lips. Patty hadn’t looked away from the TV, nursing her own beer, free arm slung over the back of the sofa in casual relaxation.

“You’re going to have to be a little more specific.”

“Okay, I’ll rephrase. Wanna tell me why you’re moping around like a dude turned down too many times at a bar?”

Erin’s frown was sharp. “I’ve not been moping,” she said defensively, finishing her sip and attempting to return her attention to the movie. It was Patty’s turn to pick, and the PI had, unsurprisingly, chosen a mystery.

“Bullshit,” Patty snorted, clearly not paying attention to _Mystic River_. “Spill it, boo. You know I’m going to find out one way or another, and I’m tired of this weird black cloud following you around. You going through shit at work?”

“No,” Erin muttered, pulling from her beer again. Tonight wasn’t the night she wanted to talk. Tonight she wanted to drink, eat terrible food, and watch mindless TV. “My cases are progressing smoothly.”

“Someone giving you trouble?”

“No.”

“You get laid recently and it wasn’t up to snuff?”

Erin choked on her next intake of alcohol, carbonation shooting into her nose and making it burn. “I’m sorry?”

“You get fucked and not like it?” Patty elaborated, enunciating slowly.

“No! No, it’s—I…not really, no.” _Smooth Gilbert,_ she sighed internally, fighting from rubbing her face.

“Not really?” Patty squinted. “How can that answer be an open-ended one? You’ve either had sex recently or you haven’t. Which is it?”

“I have not,” Erin said stiffly, eyes forward.

“Jesus, that explains a lot.” The DA side-eyed her friend. “Yeah, I see you watching me over there. Things are making more sense now that I know you’re sulking around like a cat in heat.”

Erin’s mouth made a perfect ‘O’ when it dropped open. “Patty! What the fuck?”

“What? You’re an open book, Erin. You might be a good liar, but I’m a better detective. You’ve been in a mood for weeks and walking around just as long with a pool stick shoved up your ass.”

“Then why go to the bother of asking?!”

“Cause I wanted you to tell me yourself.” Leaning across the couch, Patty settled her hand above Erin’s hips like she was testing the temperature of an over. “My hand is a foot away from your crotch, and I’m getting blisters. When was the last time you actually got any?”

“This is not a conversation I want to have right now.” Erin quickly stood and removed herself from the living room, taking her empty beer bottles with her.

“But we’re having it!” Patty called. “You need me to take you to a nice boutique I know? They’ve got some stuff that could help a girl out.”

If Erin’s face got any hotter she actually would start a fire. This was the last thing she wanted to talk about. Her nights were already plagued with restless wanting and turbulent dilemmas. Erin thought she’d been better at keeping this back and forth with herself under wraps, but apparently not.

She pretended to put something in the sink just too busy her hands. “How is anything you’re saying helpful?”

“Just throwing out suggestions. Maybe get you a little wand and some lube. Shit, you could always get one of those dicks with the suction—“

“Patricia Tolan, I am a forty-year-old District Attorney with a busy work-life, the last thing I need to do is stock up on more sex toys!”

The “more” part wasn’t supposed to slip out, but the cat was out of the bag and judging from the beaming grin on Patty’s face she was loving every minute of this exchange.

“Well holy hot damn! I always took you for a prude!”

Erin puckered at that. “Thank you for making unmitigated assumptions about my sex life.”

“Or lack thereof,” Patty sniggered into her bottle.

“I’m busy, Patty,” Erin said by way of explanation. “When do I have the time?”

“You’re not one of those people who gets weirded out with casual hookups, are you?”

Erin crossed her arms, eyebrow quirked. “I don’t see how any of that is your business unless you’re putting out.”

Patty made an unsure gesture with her hand. “Eh, you’re not my type. Never been one for the skinny corporate aesthetic. No offense, but I like a girl I can grab onto and not worry about snapping in half.”

“Variety is the spice of life.”

“That’s why you love me, baby,” Patty grinned. “So, I’m guessing this is only the tip of the iceberg? You wanna come clean about what’s really been bothering you, or do I need to keep digging?”

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Nope!” Patty said, popping the ‘p’ at the end. “Only got a few things to pick up tomorrow, and we have plenty of beer tonight. So let’s hear it.”

Deflating—because who could she be honest and candid with in her life if not Patty?—Erin made her way back to the sofa and sat down heavily, head in her hands. “I’ve just been going through some stuff. _Private_ stuff.”

“Uh-huh, ‘private stuff’ is just as much of a bullshit answer as you telling me there’s nothing wrong.” Patty settled back into the sofa, wiggling her shoulders to get comfortable.

“I know you mean well, but it’s…complicated. Alright?”

“Complicated like you could go to jail complicated, or complicated like you running off to see your Underground friend?”

Erin should have guessed Patty already held the cards. This was her type of game, after all. “The latter of the two,” she admitted. “How’d you figure it out?”

“Baby,” Patty admonished, giving her a look. “Who am I? Also, I know for a damn fact outside of work and the time you spend with me you don’t have a life. So putting two-and-two together wasn’t rocket science.”

“Great,” Erin said under her breath, reaching for another beer. Granted it was a work night, but she could really use a lack of a clear head.

“Something happen between you two weirdos? You catch something from your wolf-girl?”

“Holtzmann,” Erin corrected.   

“Whatever. Question still stands.”

“No. We’ve been fine.”

Which, if taken at face value, was the truth. Erin and Holtzmann were fine. They spent their spare moments—mostly Erin’s spare moments—together wandering the Underground, going on adventures, listening to Broadways in the Echoes—Wicked had become an instant favorite; one they’d listened to at least four times already—or happily chatting in Holtzmann’s room. Erin felt like she was back in college, smiling more than she ever had and simply being content beside her friend, but that moment in tunnels weeks ago hadn’t left either of them in peace. It left a lasting, uncomfortable impression on their budding relationship like standing after kneeling in gravel.

Erin hadn’t attempted making any advances again, policing herself like her own personal chaperone. If this bothered Holtzmann she never made mention of it, but the strain was evident. They were jumpier around the other. Quicker to apologize if limbs bumped or proximities were suddenly invaded. 

It was a maddening dance, and not necessarily one Erin wasn’t used to…just not to this degree. In the past, Erin had relations with both men and women, drifters coming and going like tumbleweeds, but nothing ever like this. She was a busy, driven woman. Sometimes that was a turn-on for people. Oftentimes, it was the exact opposite, and she long ago dropped the preconceived idea she was meant for the white-picket-fence-life. Obviously, there were no grudges held against those who found happiness in such quaint settings, but Erin felt partnership wasn’t the end-all-be-all for human existence.

Those personal feelings hadn’t changed. She didn’t long to settle down but rather longed for companionship. Longed to feel the presence of another beside her in bed. Longed to feel the heat of passion that worked a familiar slickness between her legs. Longed for someone to share her mind with.

“Oh my god,” Patty suddenly gasped, making Erin jump. “Girl, you didn’t.”

Confused, Erin looked around, trying to spot her mistake. “Didn’t what?”

“You’re falling in love with her!”

Properly startled, the DA forced out a laugh that sounded more like a wheeze. “I hardly think what’s happ—“

“ _That’s_ what’s got you so riled up in the neathers!”

“Please never refer to them as that again,” Erin winced, pulling a face.

“Fuck, baby, you really are falling for her! This is old-school pinning.”

“I’m not _pinning_.” Erin wrinkled her nose. “I don’t pine over things.”        

“Yes, you do because you’re doing it right now! Shit, this changes everything. I knew you all were friends but I didn’t think…wait _can_ you two even do anything? Wolf gir—I mean Holtzmann…is she even the same _species_?” A thought must have struck Patty because her whole body made did an ‘ew’ jerk. “This doesn’t constitute as bestiality does it?”

“ _Jesus Christ, Patty_! Holtzmann is as human as the rest of us!”

"You sure about that? You’ve seen…” she trailed off, making gestures that suggested something under the clothing. And yes, Erin had seen the Undergrounder shirtless and knew she was anatomically human, but that wasn’t the point damn it!

“God, we’ve not done anything! And yes I’m sure Holtzmann is—”

“Before you finish, what kind of human develops the ability to speak to the rest of the world _telepathically_? Seriously. The child is a mutant.”

“Who also happens to be a close friend of mine,” Erin bristled, not liking this sudden attack on Holtzmann’s human legitimacy.

"I just…” Patty caught the hard set of Erin’s face and knew whatever else she said would be overstepping and insulting. “Fine. Okay. You do you, boo. I’m not gonna judge. Just please get all your shots first and make sure she’s clean.”

“ _Patty!_ ”

“I’m being serious! I’d tell you that even if you were with a normal person,” Patty grunted, finishing off her beer. “Don’t know what kind of shit people have these days. Can’t be too careful.”

“How heartwarming. Making sure your only employer and source of income stays alive. I’ll take that under advisement,” Erin said bitterly.

Patty slowly twisted around, leather creaking under her. “Wow, you can be a real bitch when you want to, you know that?”

Stung, Erin set her bottle back down, unwilling to finish anything now that her stomach was in knots.

"I’m sorry,” she sighed. “I didn’t mean for that to come across as harsh as it did. I know you’re only looking out for me.”

“Friends do that for friends, boo.”

"Is it…bad to say I’ve not really had the opportunity for friendships like this before and that all of this is still kind of new to me? The whole having people outside my immediate family who care about me?”

Patty softened, sensing this wasn’t manipulation but the truth. “Nah, girl. Pretty sure you’re not alone in feeling like this. And hey, I’m sorry I gave you shit for whatever’s happening between you and your Underground friend. Just don’t come to me for advice because I’m shit with relationships. Never found someone who matched me or was willing to stick around long enough. Be careful, that’s all.”

Erin felt warmth expand in her chest and slid sideways until her shoulder bumped Patty’s. “Thank you.”

Biting back a smile, Patty wrapped her free arm around Erin’s shoulders and gave her a squeeze, not minding it when the smaller woman rested her head against her arm. Despite the movie being half over, they watched the rest in silence until Patty broke in with a, “You’re still not my type.”

Erin snorted. “This isn’t a pass.”

“Awesome, cause it would be weird if it was.”

“We’ll find a nice girl for you, Patty. Don’t worry.”

“Boo, you’d have to dig one up at this point.”

* * *

 

The next morning, Erin groggily rose from a blessedly dreamless sleep and headed to work in a pleasant mood. The previous night wasn’t the deep, honest conversation she needed but desperately didn’t want to have but she felt better having Patty in her corner regardless of where the situation took her.

Phillip greeted her with a smile and a small list of client meetings, telling her they should grab a bite later that evening if she had the time.

“On account you’ve been a bit of a recluse lately, and I’d like to catch up with my friend.”

Erin agreed and got to work, happy for the distraction. At a quarter past eight, she jumped into a cab and headed for the courthouse to start her day. Fully immersed in her element, Erin breezed through case proceedings, her day light, for the most part. It wasn’t until she slipped back into her office chair and kicked off her heels—fashion was torture, plain and simple—that the phone on her desk rang, jarring her out of her steady rhythm.

“District Attorney’s office, Erin Gilbert speaking,” she greeted, cradling the receiver against her collarbone.

“Erin, it’s Patty.”

“Oh, hey!” the DA blinked in surprise. “What’s up? Did I forget a lunch date again?” On the desk in front of her, she scanned the large calendar, hoping that wasn’t the case.

“No.”

“Oh…umm, okay good. Is everything alright?”

The pause told her everything. “No.”

Erin’s stomach twisted, making her sit up a little straighter. “Patty?”

“I need to speak with you. Privately.”

Well, if that wasn’t a surefire way to spike her anxiety, Erin didn’t know what would. “Alright. Is this something that can wait until tonight, or do you need to see me right now.”

“Now is preferable.”

“I’ll buzz you up—“

“Meet me outside. Five minutes.”

The line went dead, and Erin felt a wash of cold spread across her back, raising the small hairs along the nape of her neck. Hurriedly saving her document and shutting her computer down, she told the receptionist to hold her calls while she went and grabbed a quick bite. It was the only cover she could think of in her mad dash for the elevator.

Punctual as always, Patty arrived looking more than just grim. Erin had only known the woman for a scant few months but fear wasn’t an emotion the PI usually portrayed. Today she looked on the verge of testing just how far her legs could carry her before giving out.

“Patty?” Erin worried, cautiously approaching. “What’s wrong?”

“Walk with me but go slow enough we can talk,” the taller woman said, falling into step beside the DA. From her light jacket, she retrieved an envelope and passed it over.

“I’m going to be straight with you, boo. The errand I had today was a pickup from an informant friend of mine helping me dig into your Underground friends. But from here on out, I won’t be looking into this any further. I don’t fuck with shit like this and neither should you.”

Bordering on frantic now, Erin opened the envelope and withdrew a single piece of paper. She stopped walking at the same time the earth stopped spinning, both entities entering a form of limbo.

The document was innocuous enough someone might have overlooked it in passing, but two names jumped out at her like lightning on a dark night: Rebecca Gorin and Edward J. North.

“Your Gorin was a paid employee of the North crime family.”

It was like a bomb detonating under the semi-calm surface of Erin’s consciousness, blowing her entire world to pieces. Edward J North was a name seldom spoken unless absolutely necessary, and even then it was always done with hesitance and a swallow proceeding it.

Erin could remember only a handful of times hearing about the man during her stint as a Public Defender, but even those instances stood out amongst the blur of those years.

Edward North was a vicious mobster wrapped in the unassuming guise of a friendly neighbor or average, everyday person. He wasn’t flashy with his wealth. He didn’t flaunt his power like the other crime families. He was soft-spoken, even quiet at times, but so was a shark, and Edward was fond of eliminating competitors in his feeding holes with bloody efficiency.

It was joked—in private whispers—that if Marco Falconi was the devil, Edward J. North was the left hand of God that threw him out of heaven. Falconi was a minnow compared to the Norths. That was the power of their family. Their reach was infinite. Their power absolute. One simply didn’t leave their services, they were cut out and cremated because ashes could seldom be identified.

“Erin?”

It was like coming up for air beneath a sea of molasses. “This doesn’t make sense,” she said lamely.

“It doesn’t have to. It’s there in black and white, and I know for a fact this is the original document. I don’t know who these people are but they aren’t good. People don’t just join the Norths out of the blue with good intentions. There’s a reason behind everything, and I’m sorry, but Gorin isn’t who she says she is.”

_“These people aren’t good.”_

It rang in Erin’s ears like a bell toll, sharp and jarring, tearing her in two between two conflicting realities. The people she’d met were good people. They saved her. They helped her. They hid her while she healed. Bad people wouldn’t do that and not want something in return, and there had been plenty of opportunities for Gorin to twist Erin’s arm if she really wanted something.

“Why go to the trouble of blowing a lab and disappearing?” she asked quietly, speaking down at the concrete.

“To get out? To hide? To make it seem like you’re dead so the reaper doesn’t come knocking? There are a thousand different reasons she could have done what she did. The Norths deal in everything, boo. She could have been their lead Meth cook.”

“Edward North isn’t a second-rate drug dealer,” Erin frowned, keeping her voice down. “He—oh…”

“Oh?” Patty prompted when Erin didn’t immediately start speaking again. “What’s oh?”

“He deals in legal drugs…” she whispered, a dreadful clarity settling over her shoulders. “Pharmaceuticals.”

“I’m not following, baby. Where’s your mind going?”

That was a very good question, and the simplest answer was ‘nowhere good’. Instead, Erin slowly slid the paper back into the envelope and handed it to Patty, struggling to keep her hands from shaking.

“Burn this.”

“What? Hey man, where are you going? _Erin_!”

“I just need to think,” she said over her shoulder, unsure if her voice carried back to her friend or not. Patty didn’t follow, probably as shell-shocked as she was, but it was for the best. Erin didn’t want to talk right now. Didn’t want to think. Didn’t want to _feel_. Because the turmoil she’d been dealing with about what to do about Holtzmann didn’t hold a candle to the understanding the woman’s mother was in league with one of the deadliest crime families East of the Mississippi.       

It was little surprise her feet led her down a familiar path. Erin craved familiarity like a dehydrated man craved water and found it in a bar not far from her office. By all intents and purposes, this was a well-known and well-loved watering hole for the judicial crowd. Erin certainly loved it, she and Phillip spending evenings chatting with colleagues or unwinding after cases.

Stuck in what felt like an unyielding haze, Erin picked a place to sit at the bar furthest from the door and put her head in her hands. Thinking only made this worse, but it was the only tool at her disposal. Think and think and think until she overthought, muddying the waters further.

"You stare any harder at the wood, you might just light it on fire.”

Erin slowly looked up at the bartender giving her a sympathetic look and breathed a sigh of relief. “Hey, Jessie.”

The petite blonde was one of the few bartenders Erin had gotten to know over the years and could admit she truly liked. Jessie was sharp as a tack but loved people enough she temporarily forwent a degree in psychology, instead focusing on a major in mixology, “Because I can make more money in a night than most strippers with half the mess and better clients. When I get bored, I’ll go back to being a shrink.” 

“Hard case today?”

“Personal matters.”

Jessie made an understanding noise, moving so she was in front of Erin so they could better speak. “Boyfriend troubles?”

That wheedled a laugh out of the DA, albeit a dry one. “You and I both know that’s not the case.”

Jessie grinned, all tooth and Southern charm. “I always feel the need to check. Just for work, mind you,” she offered a wink before sliding like liquid mercury over to the multicolored bottles on the wall. There was only a handful of people in the building, meaning her attention was on Erin solely.

“So is this a ‘gin and tonic: my family’s driving me up the wall and daddy wants me to marry rich’ kind of night, a ‘rum and coke: I just found out I was written out of the will’ kind of night, or ‘dirty martini: my sex life really needs an overhaul’?”

“How about ‘Jack on the rocks: I just found out a friend of mine is doing possible dealings with the mob’.”

Jessie’s eyes went as round as a dinner plate. She quickly grabbed a crystal glass and filled it with two shots worth of Jack Daniels along with a shot for herself, both women downing them quickly.

"Well fuck me sideways, that’s some shit,” she said, sucking her teeth. “You doing okay?”

“I just found out, so not really,” Erin admitted, letting the liquor cauterize her insides. This was a light start. Very light. By the night’s end, she didn’t want to feel a damn fucking thing for once.

“I know you can’t go into detail, and I won’t ask, but hypotheticals work wonders. I have a good ear.”

“You keep my glass topped off and men away from me tonight, and I might just do that.”

“Deal,” Jessie flashed another grin, filling Erin’s glass.

She was sure to catch shit from Phillip for skipping out on work. Then again, all that was left for the day could be done on Monday, so Erin put it from her mind, focusing instead on chipping away the slag of her stress, fear, and anxiety one shot at a time.

“You know how sometimes you just want the world to stop spinning long enough for you to catch your breath?” she asked sometime later, head filling with helium and limbs loose. How many shots had she had? Did it matter? Was she even coherent enough to count? Likely not. The sun had long since set, night bringing the regular crowd. True to her word, Jessie kept the men away and Erin’s drinks topped off.

“Call me weird, but I’m one of those girls who likes to hold my arms out and spin until I can’t breathe,” Jessie chuckled from the stool next to Erin, spread out with the easy grace of youth. Her shift ended an hour ago, but she’d stayed to talk. “But I get your point and might have a remedy to slow you down.”

“What’s to say I want to slow down?” Erin challenged, wobbling on her bar stool.

“Oh ho-ho, well okay then, don’t fall to your death first. I might have something that will make it spin faster if that’s your aim.”

“Not tequila again,” Erin made a face. Was she slurring? Probably. Did she care? Nope. “Unless you want me starting a bar fight.”

“While that would be interesting to watch, no. Not tequila. Something a little rougher…provided you can take it?”

Erin snorted and took the offered shot. The contents were clear. The punch was immediate and took her breath away. “Is this…moonshine?” she coughed through the burn opening up her nasal passages.

“Shhh! Don’t spoil it!” Jessie pretended to look around for would-be cops ready to pounce. There were none. “My cousin makes it and sent me some to try. You like?”

“Mix it with something sweeter, and I’d take another.”

It shouldn’t have shocked her, it really shouldn’t because Jessie had been inching closer all night and Erin hadn’t removed herself, leaning in too. She’d been flirting and Erin had too. She’d been crossing a line but Erin was done with lines, throwing caution out the window because her life had long ago abandoned its placidity and jumped from a category one hurricane to a category four. So when the Southern blonde knocked back another shot only to pull Erin into a searing kiss—sharing the liquor between them via tooth and tongue—it shouldn’t have put the DA into the stratosphere but it did.

God it did.

Someone whooped. Someone cheered. Someone might have said something derogatory but none of that registered because Erin was finally spinning into blessed blackness, letting the centrifugal force launch her to space.

“Too much sugar?” Jessie breathed after breaking away.

“Not enough,” Erin growled back, taking another shot and repeating Jessie’s tactic.

Not enough became a Dionysius dive into the bottom of the bottle where the murky depths sucked Erin in and kept her there.

The world faded into fits and starts of movement and time passing. Stumbling into the night air, laughter enveloping them. The blur of streetlights. The click of a door lock. The burn of cool hands against bare skin, scorching tongues exploring sensitive flesh, breathy prayers sent into the blue-black heavens. Erin let herself fall—literally at least once, back bumping into her kitchen counter—vaguely aware of her surroundings save for the glorious release flooding her body. It was like a wire snapping after tremendous tension, an exhale she’d been holding for weeks. Mind cloudy and light, she lost herself to the updraft of ecstasy, unsure if the clang she heard was something hitting the floor or familiar footsteps on her fire escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Erin....what have you done? Yep, that happened.
> 
> Please take four seconds out of your day to let me know what you thought.


	30. Chapter 30

The apartment was dark upon arrival with no signs of life within, which was nothing to worry about. It being Friday, Erin was probably working late or out with colleagues. This had been a spur of the moment venture after a late night Helper drop off, so Holtz thought nothing of Erin’s absence when she peered through the window with both hands bracketing her eyes to help filter out the city light. It only occurred to her a heartbeat later this exact scenario—a dark-clad figure peering through someone’s window from a fire escape—was grounds for the police to be notified, but by this point, Holtzmann’s presence was more or less accepted by the residents. Meaning Erin’s neighbors didn’t call the cops, which Holtz was eternally grateful for given her last encounter.

Turning to leave a little disheartened but brewing plans of having Jerry get a note to Erin later about meeting up, Holtz’s hands were on the railing when she caught the unmistakable sound of a door unlatching and turned.

For a second it was hard to decipher what she was seeing. Cast in silhouette due to the hallway light, the shadow moving into Erin’s home didn’t look remotely human. Too many limbs and lumps, giving it a distinctly cheap sci-fi vibe until something separated the shadow into equal parts… 

And suddenly Holtzmann was falling. Not from any actual height but plummeting in a haze of shocked vertigo from the cloudless blue sky where she must have flown too close to the sun. Frozen in mortification, her mind scrambled in a futile effort to create fragile explanations that smashed to pieces just as quickly as she did when the shadowy image becomes clear.

They tangled around one another, hands hungrily roaming, seeking, finding, claiming. In the light from the window—the one Holtz partially obstructed—Erin came into view, hoisted and settled onto the countertop, body bathed in deep pools and estuaries of light pollution. She’s heaving. Straining. Reaching for another who responds to the summoning like a feral panther crawling up her body.

Someone else’s hands tear at her top, ripping the garment from her body, scattering buttons like bullets.

Someone else’s hands trace the curves of her pitching chest, the swell of her breasts, the planes of her stomach.

Someone else’s hands fumble the button to her slacks before popping it, drawing them down, revealing streaks of pale flesh to the false New York moonlight. A breathy moan snaked past the barricade of glass and punched Holtz in the chest as the other woman in the room settled between Erin’s parted thighs and—

Twisting around sharply—her boots accidentally clanging against the grate as she did—Holtzmann slammed herself against the wall next to Erin’s window, cutting the connection. It took several swallows to push heart back down, but it seemed to also drag all the blood in her body into her feet, leaving her cold and nauseated.

 _You shouldn’t be here—you shouldn’t be here—you shouldn’t be here,_ her mind roared, but her body calcified around her at an alarming rate as panic filled her to the brim like a shaken soda.

She couldn’t think. Couldn’t catch her breath, sticky September air cloying in her lungs. Warring instincts took hold, threatening to rip Holtz in half like two planets dueling over gravity, but eventually the loudest prevailed.

Run.

Run for safety.

Run for sanctuary.

Run home.

Practically launching to her feet, Holtz grabbed the railing and swung one-handed over the edge, plummeting into darkness. She was eight stories up, wind ripping her hood back. Hitting the ground from here would be instant death, but she expertly caught the railing a story below and repeated the process until she was close enough to the ground to jump and flee into the night.

It didn’t fully hit her until she slipped back into the quiet darkness of her tunnels what all this meant and what had been lost. Gripping the front of her shirt gave the illusion she was keeping the muscle that gave her life from shattering but it was simply that: an illusion.

Suddenly, in the space between breaths, the darkness of the world crept into her soul, transforming reality into an unfamiliar playground, disorienting and cruel. Her feet tangle beneath her, hands scrambling for purchase.

Disbelief turned to understanding. Understanding twisted into pain. Sliding down the smooth concrete, Holtz felt gravity lasso her heart and pull it into the bowels of the earth. And why shouldn’t it? That’s where she belonged. In her tunnels and pipes. In the dark. Not up there bathed in false neon. Not among normal people. Not with Topsiders. She was a trespasser in a kingdom no friend to her.

Embarrassment, betrayal… _shame,_ it nested in her chest like an angry tempest, beating against the cage of her ribs.

Holtz blinked hard, gasping, willing the moisture brimming in her eyes not to fall. What had she expected out of this insane endeavor? To find happiness? Companionship? Love? No, she never went looking for that. Friendship maybe. Never love, but it sniffed her out and sank its claws in deep. But there was no love. Infatuation, yes. Curiosity, certainly. And the worst part was Holtzmann saw this coming like an approaching freight train but was too stupid and naïve to leap out of the way. She should have never hoped…never wished.

 _Don’t wish. Don’t start. Wishing only wounds the heart,_ she hiccupped the lines wheedling into her mind like a worm in a poisoned apple, staring at her hands through watery vision. Hands meant to harm more than heal. Ones she’d been so afraid to touch Erin with and now...

It was too much.

Up and running again, Holtz sought no direction but down…down….down…

She ran in an effort to outrun the grim reality building behind her like a stormfront, but it descended with tidal force, crushing, grinding, drowning. Despite her best efforts, she was spiraling and couldn’t stop—was this what dying felt like?—so when her body collided with a solid, warm mass it came as a bit of a shock.

Holtz didn’t know how Goliath had the ability to show up in times like these. It was like he possessed a sixth sense when it came to the blonde. No questions asked. No queries made. Holtz felt strong arms encircle her, holding tight, and finally broke, sobbing helplessly into the giant's shirt.

 _Why does it hurt?_ she pleaded, toxic emotions curdled her stomach.

 **Hearts are fragile things** , he rumbled, easing them both to the floor when he felt Holtzmann’s strength flag.

_I shouldn’t be feeling this. I shouldn’t hurt like this. Why does it hurt?_

**Bleed it out, little sister**.

And she did. Wrapped in familiar comfort, Holtz let herself spiral and smash against the earth.

At some point the giant stood and took her with him, carrying her like he’d done many times when she was young—never mind Holtz was a thirty-two-year-old woman now. He entered a hidden lift that took them far beneath the used tunnels, further even than the Underground itself where the stones turned slate-gray and ancient.

Holtzmann had been to Goliath’s inner sanctum more than her fair share of time over the years. When she was but a wee tunnel rat she would wander the deeper tunnels looking for her mysterious friend, spending countless hours playing with the cats that always followed the giant like a furry entourage. Growing older, Holtz policed herself better, respecting the Underground guardian’s need for privacy, but sometimes the loneliness set in and she just needed a sympathetic ear when her mother or Abby weren’t as understanding as they could be.

His home was a wonder: more multi-level cave than four-walled room. The small space was cozy and impeccably clean. Bookshelves lined the rough-hewn walls. Pieces of stained glass hung in front of warm bulbs, casting multicolored prisms everywhere. Kitchen, bedroom, sitting room, they all occupied the same circular space and were absolutely littered with dozens of cats.

Goliath gently set a sniffling Holtzmann in a truly massive chair next to the potbelly stove she’d installed years earlier. Even this far down the tunnels could get cold. Holtz took a moment to clear her face of tears and snot with a the tail of her shirt, blinking in surprise when an orange tabby plopped into her lap.

 _Hello Mrs. Norris,_ she greeted with a watery smile, scratching the clearly pregnant feline behind her jaw.She meowed in response, settling into the curve of Holtz's hips like a furry loaf.

Goliath returned after removing his heavy coat that was more cloak, crouching down in front of Holtzmann and sliding off his mask so he could better see her.

Handsome wasn’t an adjective she’d ever thought to use describing the giant, but the few times Holtz had seen him without his mask he was exactly that. Handsome in a ruggedly young Ron Perlman kind of way—though his exact age was an absolute mystery. But it wasn’t Goliath’s soft features or frizzy mane of hair that captivated her. It was his eyes. Jade green and lit from the back with a weird kind of primal fire, they were eyes that could stare into a soul and charm a snake.

Holtzmann gave the giant a queer look when he offered over his smooth white mask, nodding at it to get her attention.

_Why?_

**A shield** , he explained patiently. **You put the mask on, the world bounces off. Under it, you heal. It protects you. Let’s you cry in private while everyone else thinks your smiling on the outside. A cheap trick, but sometimes the only way to heal is to trick the world into thinking you’re already okay**.

It was two sizes too big for Holtz’s head, but she slipped it on anyway, feeling a weight release from her chest as she peered out through the eye-holes. Goliath gave her a faint, closed-lipped smile and rose when the kettle he’d put on began to whistle. 

Unsurprisingly, a mug of hot chocolate was gently places in her hands, working a smile from the blonde. A little known fact Holtzmann discovered entirely by accident was that Goliath possessed one hell of a sweet tooth.

 _Is that why you still wear the mask?_ Holtz asked, idly twisting the hot mug between her palms. _You’re still trying to heal?_

Goliath didn’t respond. Of course he wouldn’t, and she didn’t anticipated him to. The man was an enigma from start to finish, the rumors growing around him turning to legend. No one knew why Goliath wore his mask, why he seldom spoke or how he’d lived in the Underground decades before Gorin ventured into his realm. He simply was and always would be, and that was the end of it.

 **Drink,** the giant instructed instead, sipping from his own mug. **It will help.**

 _I don’t know what to do, Goliath. I know I shouldn’t be angry, but I feel it. I know I shouldn’t be surprised, but I am. I thought we…_ Had something—that’s what she wanted to say but it lodged in her throat like she’d swallowed a twig. It seemed like such a cheap sentiment. Like she was cheating herself into believing maybe there was something there that hadn’t been before. Clearly she’d been mistaken, and it coated her soul in bitterness.

 _Was it wrong to…love?_ Holtzmann asked, sniffing hard as fresh tears fell.

**Love has no clear answers, little sister. We can love a wasp even as it stings us.**

_Am I just infatuated with someone who’s giving me attention? Was I wrong to care?_

Goliath took a moment to answer, compiling his thoughts into cohesive sentences. Around him, three smaller cats prowled, the big man petting them gently and pulling their tails.

 **Was your aim to bed her from the beginning? Was this about feeling owed for your aid?** It was asked evenly without a hint of reproach or judgment, but the question still rankled the blonde.

Holtzmann drew back, disgust plain in the set of her body. _Never. All I’ve ever wanted to do was help, and I never wanted Erin to feel she owed me for anything. She still doesn’t. Yes, I was fascinated by her in the beginning, but I didn’t anticipate friendship to bloom. I didn’t anticipate any of this. I just…I don’t know. I don’t know what I want. Her obviously, but that’s not possible, and I think I’ve been running from that understanding for too long. We’re too different._ I’m _too different, and Erin deserves someone from her world._

**You have the capabilities to love.**

Holtz pulled Goliath’s mask up into her hair, motioning at her face, blue eyes alight with pain and tears. _Who could ever learn to love a beast?_

Goliath’s smile was warm and understanding with just a hint of pacification behind it. The mystery of his age deepened because just then he looked years beyond his apparent youth. **You are hurting, little sister. No clear answer will come tonight. Give it and yourself time.**   

Holtzmann didn’t want time. She wanted to be rid of the turmoil boiling under her skin for the past few months. Confusion made her both irritated and petulant. In the past when she couldn’t understand a problem or equation she would walk away, but that meant walking away from possibly the brightest thing in her life.

But Goliath was right. Everything was muddied. Holtz couldn’t see up from down. So she dried her eyes as best she could and sipped her cooling drink, reluctantly settled back to watch the fire crackle in the stove, letting her mind wander the length and breadth of her sorrow. When stray tears trailed down her cheeks, she didn’t move to wipe them away, letting them fall. Goliath rose and quietly busied himself around his quarters—leaving his guest to her thoughts—humming under his breath as he went.

Warm drink coupled with a warm room and emotional exhaustion began to have its desired effect. Before long, Holtz was nodding off, Mrs. Norris still purring in her lap. When she woke next she’d be in her room—Goliath carrying her home like he’d done so many times in the past—but for now he left her be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to hug Holtz. Seriously, what a damn blow. I told you we were headed for a bit of a drop, and recovering from heartbreak like this is....yeah...not so easy... 
> 
> Please take four seconds out of your day and leave a review. They help me so much, even if its just a "thumbs up you did great" copy and paste.


	31. Chapter 31

Erin thought she was dreaming of drums and twisted away from the sound. They weren’t the sharp kind tapped on in a low-lit jazz club or the throaty kind keeping the heartbeat in hard rock. This was the wild kind found in the deep woods, loud and capable of permeating her entire body. It shook her closer to consciousness one concussion at a time until she was close enough the veil abruptly shattered into billions of bright pieces.           

“Erin!” the voice thundered, warbled and disjointed in her ears. “Erin fucking Gilbert, where the hell are you? _I swear to god, if you’re not here I’m going to_ —“

The concussion of something slamming—likely a door being kicked open…again— detonated like a bomb, propelling Erin into the bright delirium of consciousness and right off the end of her bed in a naked tangle.

Up and down became irrelevant. The earth spun like a carnival ride, her brain suspended in an anti-gravity tailspin. Stomach bile scorched the back of her throat, the sloshing contents of her stomach threatening to reappear.   

Where was she?

When was she?

The last thing she remembered…

Everything blurred together into white-hot agony pumped into her head through her eyes and ears. Sunlight burned like acid against the cave of her skull, stabbing needles into her eyes.

“Are you fucking serious?” Patty shouted from the doorway, the volume threatening to split Erin’s head open. She whimpered against the rug under her, attempting and failing to fight against her frazzled equilibrium.

“I spend all night worry about your stupid ass, thinking something happened after you ran off, and here you are hung over and—“

Patty’s chastisement was cut short when her electric stare caught sight of the second body peeking out from behind the comforter—anger flickering to unamusement in a literal New York minute.

“Jessica Beckel,” she grunted the name like it physically rubbed her the wrong way, sucking her teeth.

The other woman slowly slid out from under the covers she was using as a shield, sitting up enough she could cover her upper body with the sheets.

“Officer Tolan, _hey_ ,” Jessy said, her greeting far from pleasantly surprised and closer to wince. Her recovery was lightning quick, southern charm ramping up by sticky degrees. “Girl, look at you! Never in my life have I seen such a better—“

“No,” Patty cut in like a razor through a sail, arms slowly crossing over her chest.

“Oh,” Jessie drew back. “I see it’s all business then. What brings you here on this fine Saturday morning, _Officer Tolan_.” Something must have struck the younger woman because some of the color left her cheeks, her head snapping over to the side of the bed that was distinctly missing a body. “Erin didn’t tell me she was seeing anyone.”

From the floor, the DA made a strange series of noises that sounded like an attempt at verbal communication, but it was Patty who responded. “We ain’t fucking if that’s your worry. I’m her bodyguard, and this is a business call.”

Relief was a fleeting expression. “Oh-ho, well okay then. Far be it from me to keep an officer of the law from her due course.”

“Cut the crap. You know damn well I’m not a cop anymore, and half of that’s thanks to you.”

“Now Offi— _Miss Tolan_ , I thought that was far enough in the past we didn’t have to dredge up—“

“The fact your boyfriend at the time put a bullet in my hip?” Patty scowled. “Funny how something like that doesn’t tend to just magically go away.”

“You of all people know I’ve not had contact with Derek since he went to Sing Sing.”

“Uh-huh,” Patty tisked, unconvinced. “Since we’ve got the law brought up, when you get your bracelet taken off?”

Jessie sobered, but her drawl and lazy smile peaked through despite her best efforts. “About a year ago, but you’d be proud of me. Working at a fancy lawyer bar now, all legit and everything. Making real, honest money. I even get a uniform I get pressed once a week around the time my probation officer and I get together for drinks. Who would have known New York was such a small place! Looks like you and I still run in similar circles.”

As if on cue, from her prone position, Erin groaned, too mortified to care about her predicament or that fact she was lying naked on her bedroom floor. Fuck the world and everyone in it. She just wanted her head to stop pounding.

“Erin, dear, are you alright down there?” Jessie teased, sliding languidly across the bed to peer down at her impromptu bed-partner. Patty rolled her eyes to the ceiling, thoroughly not wanting a glimpse at the girl’s round white ass.

“Leave me here to die,” Erin moaned. Hangovers made her both petulant and dramatic.

“Aww, want me to kiss the ache better? You certainly liked my mouth—“

“Ey! I don’t want to hear this shit, okay? Get your ass in the shower and get gone. I’ve got work to do with Miss Naked-and-Regretful over there.”

Jessie made a noncommittal noise and rolled back to her side of the bed, sliding on a pair of shorts and obnoxious cowboy boots that would have looked more at home in a Dukes of Hazard movie. Negating a top, the blonde casually walked past a glaring Patty like it was just another day, throwing her a wink as she went.

“I cannot believe you’re screwing Daisy Dukes with the Boots. Fuck, Erin! I thought you had better taste.”

“Can you please stop shouting?” Erin whined into her hands, flopping onto her back with all the finesse of a floundering fish.

“No, I can’t! In fact, I think I should get a _little louder just to drive home the point you kept me worried all goddamn night!_ ”

As pissed off as she was, Patty had to admit it was a pathetic sight watching Erin curl into a fetal position with her hands over her ears, whimpering like a kicked dog. Pushing out a hard sigh, the PI crossed the room and snagged one of Erin’s robes from her closet, tossing it over the prone woman.

“It’s really hard to stay mad at you when I’m distracted by how fucking pale you are. Girl, you need to get some sun and maybe a fresh round of shots. No telling what Jessie’s carrying.”

Muttering thanks and slowly climbing into her robe, Erin hoisted herself back into dignity by sitting on the edge of her bed. She looked a disheveled mess and felt five times worse. “Oh my god, Patty, I fucked up so bad.”

“Story of your life, apparently.”

“I don’t remember how I got home,” she looked up in startlement, dragging her hands down her face.

“A cab, I hope.”

“I don’t remember anything past four o’clock. Oh god… _what did I do_?”

“Ditched me on the sidewalk to drown yourself in booze, that’s what. Didn’t think that was really your speed, but okay,” Patty put her hands up in a distinctly ‘whatever’ gesture, leaning back against the wall.

“Can you blame me?” Erin argued, her memory spotty but not enough to black out the very real understanding Holtz’s mother was a runaway member of the mob. The thought coupled with the confusion she still felt towards the Undergrounder churned her already sea-sick stomach. “I just needed to clear my head.”

“How’d that work out for yah?” Going off looks alone, Patty didn’t need a verbal answer. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Alright, get your dainty ass up and into the kitchen. A little ‘hair of the dog’ will do you some good. Last I remember, you still have half a bottle of vodka unless you and Coyote Ugly polished it off.”

“Patty,” Erin called, stalling the taller woman. She looked distraught when the PI turned. “I slept with a bartender.” The admission was as much a statement as it was confirmation, the haunted look in her eyes growing by degrees. “I blackout-slept with a bartender, I don’t remember it, and there’s a weird taste in my mouth…”

Patty shook her head, bemused. “Vodka will wash the taste of puss right out and sanitize it too.”

The pallor of Erin’s skin took on a sudden green hue. She had enough time to race to the nearest wastebasket before her treacherous body won out, Patty wincing at the sound of heavy retching.

“God, you’re a fucking mess.” Which was, of course, the understatement of the year. Stooping down, Patty made sure her friend’s hair was out of the way and patted her shoulder until Erin quieted. “Come on. Fluids are your best friend right now.”

With quick efficacy, Patty deposited Erin in the living room, careful where she put her hands on flat surfaces, “Because I don’t know where you two did things, and that white stain looks way too suspicious for my liking. I’m gonna need Lysol and gloves before I touch _anything._ ”

While Erin nursed a stout Bloody Mary courtesy of Patty—it was serendipitous happenstance she had all the ingredients on hand—Jessie emerged from the bathroom looking fresh as a spring day. Unsurprisingly, she didn’t stick around, bidding Erin goodbye with a quick kiss on the cheek and instructions to give her a call the next time she wanted a good roll in the sheets.

Erin, for her part, opted for closed-mouth nods until the woman was gone. Then she all but flew into the bathroom and proceeded to scorch away the top three layers of her skin. She may or may not have also flinched at the dark, oily bruises punctuating her neck…evidence of her escapades.

“You use up all the hot water?” Patty commented when she finally emerged almost an hour later.

“Scrubbed myself like I’m going up for auction,” she muttered, flopping onto the sofa.

“Good girl. I wasn’t joking about those shots either. Get yourself checked ASPA.”

Erin nodded, distracted as she stared out the window. Last night, all she’d wanted was release. It wasn’t much to ask for after the hurricane she’d been through, but she’d awoken wound even tighter, feeling for all the world like a welded-shut pressure cooker next to a furnace.

“Was Jessie’s boyfriend really the one who shot you?” The question came out of nowhere—likely a subconscious attempt at distancing herself from hard questions—and even shocked Erin who instantly regretted opening her mouth.

Patty didn’t immediately answer. She stared out a different window, mind clearly in the past. Whether or not she chose to let Erin become privy to that past was entirely up to her.

“Ain’t something I wanna talk about if it’s all the same to you.”

“I’m so sorry,” Erin apologized, meaning every word.

“It is what it is. Can’t change the past. Just roll with the punches you can,” Patty huffed, scrubbing at her face to be rid of gray thoughts worming into her mind. Erin caught how her right hand drifted over the edge of her pelvis. In the past, the DA assumed it was the habitual motion of someone reaching for a gun that wasn’t there anymore. Now she wasn’t so sure… 

* * *

 

 

Walking into her office Monday morning was equivalent to taking ‘the walk of shame’. Granted, no one knew what happened Friday night—unless they were present at the bar, which Erin found unlikely—but try as she might she couldn’t shake the feeling people were staring at her. Then again, it could have been the oversized scarf wrapped snugly around her neck to hide the hickeys that drew attention. 

_Great going, Gilbert. Might as well just paint a target on your chest._

Luckily, she didn’t have any face-to-face clients this morning, though Phillip did give her a quizzical look when he stopped into her office during lunch. Erin’s scarf must have slipped free because she caught him looking and immediately flushed scarlet.

“Red lipstick and concealer,” he shrugged, digging through his takeout box.

“I’m sorry?”

“Red lipstick first. Let it dry then add liquid concealer. Works like a charm,” he grinned devilishly. “That’s why you’ve never seen any of the marks Brian leaves on me. Nice to see you getting out, though. Congrats.”

Erin couldn’t decide whether to be grateful or mortified but stowed the useful information away for later. Not like she’d be participating in a repeat performance, but any little bit would help.

The week moved on without incident, and September rolled to a close. It didn’t don on the DA until another quiet week slipped by that she’d not heard from the Underground. It wasn’t necessarily uncommon. Holtz could go days without sending her a message, but two weeks was a bit of a stretch even for her.

Figuring something must have come up, Erin let the matter drop for a few more days until the seeds of worry began to take root. Holtz had never gone this long without getting _some_ kind of communication to her. Had something happened?

Unwilling to let her caustic unease go any further, Erin waited until she was home from the office and phoned Zue’s, naturally asking for Jerry when the regular manager answered.

“Man, I told you to stop calling me at work,” he grumbled into the phone, clearly trying to keep the conversation hidden if his muffled voice was anything to go by. “You’re gonna get me—“

“In trouble with your sweet little Asian honey,” Erin filled in, rolling her eyes in the process. This was how most of their blessedly limited conversations began. It was almost ritualistic at this point.

“You mocking me, lady?”

“Why would I ever do a thing like that?” Erin asked sweetly before dropping her jest and becoming serious. “Have you been Underground recently?”

“Three days ago. Why?”

Well, that was mildly comforting. If something major happened Erin figured she’d be kept in the know. “Has anything happened? Anything out of the norm? Something that might stop Holtz from reaching out?”

Erin heard Jerry snort and could imagine the bored look on his face. “What makes you think I’d tell you if something did?”

“Jesus, Jerry,” Erin almost hissed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’ve not heard from Holtzmann in almost three weeks, okay? I’m starting to get a little worried. Can you please get a message to her for me?”

“I ain’t due down there for another three days, and special trips are frowned upon my Gorin, so you’re gonna have—“

“I’ll pay you fifty bucks in cash if you make the run tonight,” she cut in, throwing the offer like a fishing lure.

There was a pause on the other end of the line. Erin could hear the sound of a busy kitchen in the background, people shouting in Mandarina, utensils scraping sizzling woks. When the pause stretched for too long she sighed into the receiver, resting her head against the wall.

“Make it seventy-five.”

“Done deal,” Jerry grinned. “Now actually order something so my boss doesn’t think I’m doing anything hinky behind the scenes.”

"You? Doing unscrupulous things? What an imagination,” Erin deadpanned. “Fine, just bring my regular order. I’ll have your money waiting.”

“Sure. Be there in an hour.”

True to form, the Helper arrived on time—give or take a few minutes—with a plastic bag full of takeout in one hand and the other out for not only his ordinary tip. Grinning sleazily at Erin’s less than pleased glare, Jerry took the extra seventy-five with a promise he’d get back to her later that night. With no other options close at hand—Erin sincerely wished the Underground could receive cell service or at the very least a landline—she was forced to eat her meal alone and wait, killing time and brain cells by watching trashy TV.

One hour slipped by, then two, then three. Chancing a quick shower, Erin scrubbed herself clean from the day and settled back on her sofa again with a book in hand. It was well past eleven when the DA was startled from a light doze by a furious pounding on her door that didn’t stop until she jerked it open. Reprimand close at hand—it was almost midnight for Christ’s sake!—her words were silenced when a wad of cash was literally thrown in her face.

“Who the fuck do you think you are messing with Holtz? Where do you get the balls to pull shit like that, huh?!” Jerry raged, not bothering to keep the volume of his voice any lower than a scream.

Dumbfounded into stuttering silence by the sudden and vicious lashing, Erin could only stare in cold shock at the Helper.

“You ain’t got anything to say?” Jerry challenged, planting his hands on either side of the door and purposely invading Erin’s space. “Just gonna fucking stare at me like you didn’t just devastate one of the best fucking people on this planet?”

Brain finally finding a functioning gear, Erin bit back, confusion and anger jostling inside her like oil and water. “ _What the hell are you talking about_?”

“Like you don’t fucking know!”

“Clearly I don’t know, Jerry, so why don’t you spell it out for me right here in the hallway at max volume so God and all creation can hear too! I’ve not seen Holtzmann in three weeks!”  

“And if I have anything to do with it, you won’t see her ever again! I don’t let people hurt my family, especially rich bitches who think they own the world and everything in it.”

Heat and redness started its ascent up her neck, a telltale sign Jerry was treading on very thin ice, but the Helper appeared completely done with the DA.

“Jesus you’re pathetic. Don’t ever fucking call me or Holtzmann again. And don’t fucking order food from me either! I see your name pop up, I’m spitting in every takeout box!”

Spitting at Erin’s feet to further punctuate his point, Jerry twisted away but didn’t make it two steps before fingers dug into his coat sleeve and jerked him back about.

“Give me a clear answer as to what you _think_ I’ve done or the next call I make will be to your boss’ _daughter_ ,” Erin seethed, no more than an inch from the shorter man. The two glared at one another, both wound tight enough a shift in the wind would trigger violence between them.

“I ain’t above popping a woman, lady, _especially_ one who broke a friend of mine’s heart.”

Ice replaced fire. Erin’s entire body stuttered like a stalling engine long enough Jerry jerked himself free and stalked down the hall to the elevator, leaving the DA to sink into frigid quicksand. What? _What?_

“What do you mean I broke her heart?” Erin called, running after the man. Never mind she was in nothing but a robe, damp hair swinging. “What are you talking about?!”

Inside the elevator, Jerry grabbed the doors before they could fully slide shut, glaring at Erin through the crack. The venom in his voice could melt steel beams. “How about the next time you decide to get eaten out on a counter make sure there’s not someone on the other side of the window wanting to see you.”

The last thing Erin registered was a proud middle finger rise before the elevator doors snapped closed and the pressure building inside her hit a cataclysmic breaking point around one strangled word.

“No.”

It vibrated in her marrow, a pleading prayer she didn’t even know she was throwing up into the heavens as she scrambled back to her apartment—curious eyes watching her from behind closed doors—and threw on the first warm article of clothing she could get her hands on.

Neon and streetlights bled into streaks as she ran from her apartment, darkness creeping into her soul each time she stumbled and slowed.

No, this wasn’t right.

No, that hadn’t happened.

No, she hadn’t been there!

_No, no, no, no, no, no!_

Erin flew down a bleak alley, knowing the route by heart and therefore hardly seeing it as it passed. The basement still reeked of mold, but she didn’t register the smell. Crates blocked her path, but she didn’t slow, climbing over them in a mad search for the hidden latch that would open the tunnel entrance.

She shouldn’t be out here. Shouldn’t even be this far this late at night but desperation drove her like a lathered team of horses against the whip. By now, Erin knew her way around the upper tunnels near her home relatively well. Her knowledge paled in comparison to Holtzmann’s, but she at least knew where to go to Tap, seeking and finding the pipe with relative ease.

Retrieving a small screwdriver from her pocket, Erin raised her hand to beat her message but froze, suddenly unsure what she was going to say. In the quiet darkness, all she could hear was the labored rush of her breathing. In her mind, however, a tempest roared: _You fucked up. You fucked up. You fucked up._ It cycled through her system like a corrosive acid, stripping away her courage.

Hand gripping the cool pipe, Erin rested her forehead against the metal for both balance and grounding. What was she honestly going to say? What _could_ she say? “Sorry you caught me literally with my pants down? She didn’t mean anything to me? I was drunk and don’t remember? You’re all I want? You’re all I think about, but we can’t be together because we come from two different worlds? Sorry I apparently broke your heart in the process of figuring my shit out?”

Flimsy excuses more insulting than exonerating. There were no excuses big enough for this. There was no apology that could bridge this gap. Tears stung Erin’s eyes, blurring her vision. All she had were her words, but they wouldn’t be enough. If Holtzmann sent Jerry back, what’s to say she’d come to Erin’s call at all?

_I can’t let this end here. Please, God, don’t let it end here._

With no other alternative—and unwilling to risk the wrath of Abby or Gorin should Erin try to physically walk into the Underground—she reached out for her only other option.

Goliath.

The call echoed as it usually did through the pipe, sharp and jarring, and then there was silence. Sliding down the wall, Erin allowed herself to be swallowed by the bleak void encompassing her in steel and concrete. Guilt savaged her. All she could think about was what Holtzmann had seen and what it had done to her.

 _“You broke her heart!”_ Jerry’s words very nearly wrote themselves on the back of her eyelids, dancing like ghost-lights in the darkness.  

Erin knew they’d danced around the idea and label of ‘couple’ for months but neither had been prepared to commit. No, scratch that. _Erin_ hadn’t been ready to commit. She’d toyed with Holtzmann, stringing her along with false hope, telling herself she’d one day figure out her own heart and then fallen into bed with that same woman watching. It was enough to bring the pre-digested Chinese food back into Erin’s throat.

When the hairs on the back of Erin’s neck suddenly pricked, she knew she wasn’t alone, but the atmosphere felt….wrong. Heavy. Electric. Out of tempo like reality was a record that lightly skipped a beat, throwing the whole rhythm out of sync.

Just like before, when the giant made his presence know it was done stealthily. Tonight, however, Goliath remained well out of flashlight range, sticking to the shadows. The only indication Erin had she wasn’t alone was the glow of his mask in the blue-blackness and his subtle, shadowy outline.

“I need to speak to Holtzmann,” Erin pleaded, pushing up from the ground but not daring to approach. She fidgeted when no answer came. “Please, this is urgent. I need to see her.”

Strange how Goliath didn’t approach further. Stranger still, the beam of Erin’s flashlight seemed to be doing its level best not to alight on him. Even shined directly at the giant, the light refracted and redirected like it hit a prism.

“I messed up,” Erin admitted in a rush, feeling a bubble of guilt rise into the column of her neck. “I mess up royally, and I hurt her, but I need her to know I never meant to! It was a mistake. I wasn’t even—“

**You’re not welcome here.**

The voice was a blow to her solar plexus, knocking the wind from her sails. Just like that, a door slammed in her face—hard.

“ _Please_ ,” Erin begged, almost going to her knees. “I _need_ to make this right! Goliath, just give me a chance to expla—“

Darkness.

Erin swore colorfully when her flashlight cut out, plunging her into premature blackness. It almost seemed staged—at any moment a laugh track would play off set—which was preposterous. Old batteries, that’s all, but when the torch blinked back to life a half-second later Erin felt the whole of her reality twist and splinter, terror seizing her spine.

Goliath crouched before her, white mask barely brushing the tip of her nose. She’d not heard or felt him move. One moment he was across the tunnel and in the blink of a stuttering bulb he was so close Erin could physically see the eyelashes rimming phosphorescent green eyes.

All of a sudden, she understood what Lucas and the others meant when they said Goliath wasn’t human. In that pivotal moment, Erin knew with a chilling clarity she wasn’t standing in the presence of anything remotely natural, and that understanding strained the edges of her mortal comprehension to its breaking point.

**Get. Out.**

No time to recoil. No time to speak or breathe or think. Erin blinked again and the giant was moving away, sliding back into the shadows like the wraith he was. Even after he was presumably gone, Erin still felt the weight of those green eyes watching her, glimpsed like ghost lights in the dark whenever she shifted her field of vision.

It took a full thirty seconds for the DA to turn and flee back up the tunnels, back to her world of neon and chrome, back to the safety of reality but so devastatingly far from what she truly wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, the only place we can go from here is up right? Right? <_< I promise things will get better....eventually...
> 
> Please take literally four seconds out of your day to let me know what you thought.


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooo here we go. Nerd's writing to soundtracks again! Next few chapters have got tunes that go along with them. Today's selection will be
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4Q-QAnmC0PA
> 
> Enjoy ;)

The pencil went up the slanted desk and came back down only to be sent off again by a sharp twitch from Holtzmann’s finger.

Up, down. Up, down. Up, down.       

She watched it with disinterest—head resting on her arm—eyes tracking the movement but not actually see it. Beside her arm the music box she’d assembled from Erin’s gifted kit played through its haunting melody, internal terminals winding down until the song came to an end. Only then did Holtz move, rewinding the spring and letting the little particleboard robot sing.

Holed up in her room for an embarrassingly long stretch of time, Holtz rarely venturing out unless checking on something in the lab or to eat. Two weeks into her sulk, Holtz’s fingers lost their dexterity, creativity seizing up like an engine without oil. Three weeks and she had to start tracking her bathing habits after her mother made a comment about scents of lingering musk. The last thing Holtz wanted was her mother prying into her daughter’s sudden shift in mood. The same couldn’t be said for Abby who sensed what the culprit might be and spoken her peace.  

“Look, all I’m saying—and I can’t _believe_ I’m actually _saying_ this—is that you can’t leave things like they are between the two of you.”

_There’s no point, Abby. There never was._

“Will you pull your head out of your ass for two seconds and actually use your brain? I know you never really got to be a typical teenager and go through this shit young, but pull back the drama curtain a bit, yeah?” Abby snapped beside Holtz’s bookshelf, book still in hand. The blonde shot her a scathing look the blind woman returned with stony indifference. “You got your feelings hurt. I get that, but the two of you were never mutually exclusive, were you? That was a direct question, Holtz.”

 _No,_ she grunted, hating the admission but knowing it for the truth that it was.

“Then it seems to me some wires were crossed and you two need to talk.”

_What if I don’t want to? What if I feel this was all a mistake?_

“Then you were in it for the wrong reason,” Abby shrugged, shelving her book and moving towards the exit.

_I didn’t plan on falling in love, Abby!_

“No, but you blundered into it without a second thought to the consequences. Love isn’t like the storybooks, Holtz. There’s no clear path and both parties have to actually fucking communicate for things to work out. Life isn’t a Disney movie. You don’t just kiss once and that’s the end.”

 _Funny because I’m pretty much the embodiment of Quasimodo,_ Holtz argued, making gestures at herself.

“Oh for the love of God,” Abby sighed, rubbing her face. “You’re as dramatic as your mother sometimes. Fine, sit in your cave and sulk. Be a thirty-year-old child. Let Erin go and move on, but don’t you dare do any of that without a verbal confirmation from her that this is over. Don’t you fucking dare, Holtz.”

 _Why should I bother?_ The blonde kicked her chair into a tight spin, arms folded across her chest.

“Take it from someone who never got to say goodbye,” Abby said from the doorway, the slope of her shoulders enough to tell Holtz she was fighting back an old sadness. “Whatever the pain, whatever the heartache, get closure. Don’t live your life with a what-if. It’ll eat you alive.”

Hit with a pang of guilt—because she really was being an insensitive, immature sod—Holtz opened her mouth to call out to Abby but her aunt was gone, leaving only her words behind.

That had been three days ago.

Abby’s advice rattled around inside Holtzmann like a screw in a vacuum hose. The choice was ultimately hers, but the thought of seeing Erin again and laying whatever they’d started to build to rest was a slow agony. It was easier to mope and sulk. Then at least she could pretend this wasn’t also partially her fault.

 _God, I can’t live like this much longer,_ Holtz groaned, thumping her forehead against her desk.

Knowing she needed to get out of her room or risk morphing into a useless piece of furniture—was that upholstery growing behind her ears?—Holtzmann begrudgingly gathered herself up and headed to the Main Square. It being a delivery day, she figured the hustle and bustle would lift her spirits. Maybe if she was lucky she’d snag a few snacks before fleeing back to her burrow.

The Square was bustling as par-usual, families standing in snaking lines to receive their essentials from Topside. Holtz meandered through the throngs, offering wan smiles to a few familiar faces but otherwise keeping to herself. If anyone noticed her less than jovial attitude they didn’t mention it, giving the Undergrounder room.

“Holtz?”

The familiar voice sent her spinning on her heels in shock as she searched out the speaker.

“ _Lucas?”_ she signed in surprise, jogging up to her relieved-looking Helper friend as he slid towards her through a small cluster of people. In all the years she’d known the man Lucas never made a trek Underground or expressed an interest in visiting her world. Seeing him threw her for a proverbial loop. _“How’d you get down here?”_

“Umm…Jerry brought me,” he said distractedly, motioning over his shoulder at the Helper unloading crates nearby—Jerry offered a wave when he saw Holtz looking—unable to hide his awe at the subterranean world. “I’m glad I ran into you so quickly. This place is huge!”

 _“Yeah, no kidding! It’s a lot bigger on the inside,”_ Holtz grinned. _“You want a tour? This isn’t even a tenth of what’s down here.”_

“Uh, maybe later,” Lucas said, making a slow rotation to take everything in before sobering and facing his friend. “Do you think we could talk someplace private? I need to ask you something.”

Why did that request twist Holtz’s guts into knots? Nodding, she took him by the arm and moved them off the main path into a side tunnel. _“What going on? You never come down here.”_

“I know.” Lucas rubbed the back of his neck guilty, averting his gaze. “I actually need to speak with Gorin. Is she around?”  

If him showing up unannounced wasn’t enough to raise Holtz’s emotional levels from mild concern to flat-out worry, his request to speak to the matron of the Underground certainly kicked off warning bells. _“Are you okay?”_

Prepared to brush off his friends’ concern, Lucas suddenly faltered, whatever bravado had floated him down there evaporating. The young man’s veneer cracked, shoulders drooping like a wilting flower. “Honestly? No. I’ve…kind of gotten myself into some serious shit Topside, which is why I need to talk to your mother. She still permits new people into the Underground, right?”

Holtz’s eyes popped like she’d been kicked in the stomach. _“What the hell happened?”_

“Long story short, I picked the wrong pharmacy to nick those pills from.” Lucas tried to laugh off his obvious discomfort but it was as brittle as spun-sugar. “Who would have thought nicking a few pills from one of those fancy pharmacies would piss off a North? Anyway, your friend suggested I come talk to Gorin. She also asked me to give you this if I saw you.” From his jacket pocket, Lucas retrieved a folded piece of paper and pressed it into Holtzmann’s hands.

 _“She?”_ There was really no point in asking. There was only one _she_ in Holtz’s life.

“Your Topsider, Erin.”

The blonde flinched at the name, feeling the verbal blow sink into her ribs. If Lucas saw this he chose to keep the observation to himself. Holtz roused herself long enough to show him through the main tunnels to her home, speaking briefly to an equally surprised Gorin when the matter was broached.

Retreating into the sanctuary of her lab, Holtz expertly climbed into the jungle of pipes within the beating heart of her machine, wedging herself within a womb of warmth and familiarity. It rankled her how hard her hands shook unfolding the letter, blue eyes skimming the contents. Unsurprisingly, it was handwritten, Erin’s scrolling script etched in black ink.

_“H,_

_I didn’t know how to reach you other than through Lucas. I hope this letter gets to you in time. I owe you more than just an apology. Please meet me at the Manhattan Center on the 31 st at eight o'clock. There’s a tunnel entrance in the basement. I’ll wait there until nine. _

_E.”_

An apology. She _knew_? The knowledge rocked Holtzmann and robbed her of basic human function. The how and why didn’t matter. Betrayal slithered into her soul. Erin had _known_ she was hurting for a _month_? They hadn’t seen or spoken to each other in four weeks and this is how Erin chooses to contact her? With a summons attached to the possibility of an apology? The nerve…the audacity…the— _how fucking entitled do I think I am?_

Jerking back, Holtzmann pushed away the scorching heat of her anger. It stung thinking this might have been an afterthought, but she imagined she knew Erin better than that. The DA didn’t do anything without proper thought put behind the action. Well, maybe that wasn’t entirely true, but impulse wasn’t in her MO. So this…sounded genuine and could very well be.

Crumpling the letter, Holtzmann buried her face in her hands, screaming into the void. The voice of her machine stole hers, which was for the better, letting her bleed the frustration out.

Eight o'clock. Judging by her watch, that was in four hours. Four hours to make a decision. Four hours to make or break almost a year’s worth of friendship. Go or stay, the proverbial rock and a hard place. Go and be angry to Erin’s face or stay and forever wonder what might have been…

_One question haunts and hurts…too much, too much to mention…_

Well now, didn’t that put things into perspective?

 _I hate you,_ Holtzmann growled, raking her hands through her hair. _I hate_   _what you've done to me_ , _but I…love you. And I have to be out of my fucking mind._

Ditching her lab coat for something heavier to combat the Topside chill, Holtz fled into the tunnels she knew so well.

* * *

 

Finding the Manhattan Center wasn’t difficult. It, like most buildings in New York, had a basement. And if it had a basement there was a good chance there was a tunnel entrance somewhere. Holtzmann tracked it down easily enough, squeezing through a series of access pipes—thankfully not in use—that deposited her at the rusted grate in a boiler room. A sharp kick granted her access and from there it was a straight shot.

She didn’t want to be here but at the same time felt like she was owed an explanation. During her trek, Holtzmann puzzled out the conversation she’d have, going over and over the lines in her head. The accusations. The questions. The demands and the reconciliations. But with each pass she became more and more unsure what the outcome would be, her irritation banking into bristling anger that turned her into a—

Holtz stuttered to a stop upon rounding the final corner. It wasn’t the sight of Erin that arrested her movement and wrapped her entire body in bands of undulating chills. It was what she was wearing.

The dress was long and dark—possibly navy blue, though hard to tell in this light—and so sheer Holtz could make out every curve of the woman as if she was wearing nothing at all. The garment moved across her frame like liquid, breaking open at one shoulder and sporting a plunging lace neckline that could punch it’s way to China if need be. The addition of heels made Erin even taller than before, giving her an ethereal look that matched the gentle curl of her hair pinned back with white crystals. It was entirely  _not_ what she was expecting to find the DA wearing tonight, the juxtaposition between the two of them stark.     

Holtzmann must have made some type of noise—probably choking on air since she’d completely forgotten how to breathe—because Erin turned suddenly and the earth rotated with her. Suddenly it was like they’d never been apart, gravity attempting to pull them back together. The blonde’s fingers itched to reach for her, every molecule screaming at her to move.

“Hey,” Erin said attempting a relieved smile that was more hesitant than happy. Her own awkwardness must have caught her off guard because her next attempt at communication was a bit surer. “I’m so glad you came. I was worried Lucas wouldn’t find you in time.”   

 _You look…_ Radiant. Magnificent. Beautiful. Stunning. Like a vision…god-I’ve-just-missed-talking-with-you-and-this-month-has-killed-me-please-just-tell-me-what-I-did-wrong… _Wow._

Even at a distance, Holtz caught Erin’s cheeks reddening, the dip of her head telling her as much. “Thank you.”

_One hell of a date tonight, I guess. Lucky person._

Holtzmann almost smacked herself, visibly wincing at her own lack of tact. That’s not how she wanted to start things tonight, and watching Erin’s face fall was as bad as watching someone kick a puppy.

“I wanted to talk to you about…that.” Erin inhaled, turning to face Holtzmann fully but not approaching, leaving a visible distance between them. Brave as she might try to appear, she was physically shaking, courage flagging. “I’ve wanted to talk to you for a while about what you saw, what it meant, and how sorry I am for all of this…for how I hurt you, but I couldn’t figure out what to say. We— _I’ve_ been dancing around a lot of unspoken things, but I think it’s finally time to clear the air, so to speak.”

Well, here it was, Holtzmann though. The bullet that was finally going to put her out of her misery.

“But I wanted to show you something first if that’s alright?”

Well…shit. That wasn’t expected. Holtz felt like she was teetering on a knife’s edge. One strong gust would determine which way she fell, and if she was feeling this, she knew Erin was balanced right alongside her. That gave her some measure of comfort.

“Will you follow me?” Erin tentatively asked, fighting to keep from rubbing her bare arms.

Holtz didn’t trust herself to speak. She nodded instead, shoving her hands into her pockets and tailing behind Erin when she turned and started making her way down the hall. The atmosphere hung thick like a quilt between them. This was the air before the storm, charged with the potential to do either harm or good.

Erin led Holtzmann to what was probably an old changing room, light peeking out from around the frame. She paused with her hand on the knob, nervousness making her tense.

“I want you to know there’s no obligation attached to this,” she said without turning, trusting Holtz was behind her. “If you want to leave, I’ll understand. You don’t owe me anything, but give me one last chance to make this right. I don’t know if you celebrate Halloween in the Underground. I admit I’m not one for holidays, but upstairs, one of the New York dance companies is putting on a masquerade. If you’ll have me, I’d like to share a dance with you.”

That’s right. It was Halloween. How had she missed that?

Intrigued as much as she was confused—a dance? Topside? _How exactly?_ —Holtz watched as the door swung open and Erin stepped out of the way, backing into the shadows.

The room was colorful and small, packed to the brim with old set-costumes and props. A large mirror ringed with circular bulbs along the back wall lit the space and the showpiece presented on a mannequin waiting for Holtz when she stepped in.

It was a suit, but not just any suit. A suit for her.

Dumbfounded, she slowly approached, afraid this was a mirage. Blue-black and silk to the touch, gold embroidery crawled around the edges of the cuffs and hems like creeping ivy. Under the jacket and matching vest was a royal purple button-up so dark it looked like wine. Black shoes finished the ensemble, shined to a mirror finish.

Twisting around in mute shock, Holtz looked for Erin but didn’t see her, the DA taking her leave up the hall to give her time to decide. And what a decision this was. Reaching out, she touched the fabric, calloused fingers gliding across silk. How? When? Then her eyes caught something else that brought all of creation to a standstill. Nestled in a velvet box on a squat table beside the suit was a bone-white, half-face mask not unlike Goliath's only leagues more delicate and painstakingly sculpted to look like  _her_ face. Her odd angles. Her lupine features rendered in porcelain, the perfect disguise on a day when monsters and man walked the same earth.

God, when had she suddenly become breathless?   

Out in the hall, Erin retreated as far as she could go, back turned. A month away from the woman had been like suffering through the sudden disappearance of a dear friend. It left her with a void in her life. She’d wandered for hours at a time unsure what to do or where to go, just wanting to reach out. Wanting to apologize. Wanting to scream how sorry she was for everything and that she’d finally wrestled the truth from herself.

But her opportunity had come and gone.

She’d missed her chance at love, or so she thought until Lucas sought her out. Only then did the seeds of hope rekindle like a fragile fire in the rain, held close to her chest for fear of it extinguishing before it could even spread.

So she kept her distance from Holtz even now, not wanting her presence to sway her decision, but the underlying truth was Erin didn’t think she could stomach watching her walk away. It would break her like kindling across a knee. So she waited for the telltale sound of receding footfalls, holding her breath and wondering if she’d ever be able to exhale again.

Time became a cruel master, suspending her in limbo. It both crawled and sped by, the evening slipping through her fingers like sand. Unsurprisingly, it began to dawn on Erin that maybe she had fucked things up beyond repair. Maybe this was all for not. Maybe this was never meant to be, and that slowly broke her heart. If she could just rewrite time she—

Footsteps in the hall.

Erin tensed, electricity exploding up her spine. She didn’t want to turn, fearing she’d catch the back of Holtzmann’s head as she retreated back into the tunnels, and that would be it. The end of a friendship. The end of so many maybes and could-haves.

Biting her lip so hard she left tooth impressions, Erin swallowed her fear and turned, ready to hasty grab the pieces of her heart before they shattered but froze instead, forgetting how to properly function.   

Towards…not away. Holtzmann was walking _towards_ her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh here we go! I think you all are really gonna like the next few chapters ;) (and for anyone who reads my work, you all know how much I love ballroom dance scenes)


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here. We. Go. This whole chapter was written around this song, so sit back, listen, and enjoy
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8dags3mDT44

In the dim light of the basement hall all Erin could make out was a halo of blonde hair. Holtzmann was looking down, fidgeting with a loose button, hair pulled out of its up-do and allowed to cascade over her shoulders. The suit hugged her frame like a glove, dark enough to make her a shadow among shadows until she looked up and the blue of her eyes caught the light. It was like watching lightning strike in the heart of the storm, illuminating Erin to the depths of her soul.

“Holtz…you…” How did she speak again? What were words? Holtzmann stayed. She’d chosen to give her one last chance. “You look wonderful.”

 _Should I even ask how you got this to fit so well?_ she asked, holding out her arms to admire the snug fit. In all her life she’d never worn anything near this fine.

Erin blushed, a nervous laugh bubbling into her neck. She felt like an electrical fire, warmth and current coursing through her veins. For the first time in weeks, she could adequately exhale. “I might have nabbed a hoodie of yours a little while back.”

 _Is that where my MIT hoodie went?_ Holtz blinked, suddenly making the connection.

“Sorry,” Erin winced. “I was going to return it when…umm, everything happened.”

_Well, at least it went to good use. Though I have no idea how you got my pants size…_

“Lucky guess,” the DA coughed, not wanting to reveal she’d been a bit of a snoop while in Holtzmann’s room before this whole thing blew up in their faces.

And just like that, the conversation evaporated like spilled water in the desert. One surprising act of kindness wasn’t enough. They weren’t mended, not by a long shot. Holtzman may have chosen to stay but a month’s worth of hurt and confusion still lingered like a raw wound. Beneath the surface she was simmering, the words she’d intended to say bunched up at the base of her throat.

“I’d like to talk about…that night,” Erin hedged, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I can make all the excuses in the world, and I was prepared to, but you don’t deserve that. You deserve the truth no matter how hard it is for me to say it. I made a mistake. I led you on. We should have talked a long time ago about what was happening between us, but I was scared. I’m still…scared. And I don’t know where to go from here. Where _we_ go, if we go at all.”

 _Where do you want us to go?_ Holtz asked, fearing she might not be heard over the slamming of her own heartbeat.

“I’d like to start over if we could? Not from the beginning. I’d rather not get stabbed again, but maybe from that kiss in the tunnels?”

Holtzmann looked down, thinking her answer over carefully. She’d run roughshod through this whole fiasco and look where it got her. A broken heart. Bruised ego. More questions than answers. She had to pull back, to think, to listen to her betters for once and use her brain, as Abby would say.

 _I can’t make that decision right now. I’m still angry. I don’t really know where up is from down._ Erin’s entire being fell, her eyes tracking the floor. _So give me until the end of the night. I owe you that much. Show me why you went through the trouble of making this suit._

It was something. It wasn’t what she wanted, but it _was_ something. Erin nodded, hugging her middle in an effort to keep from pulling Holtz into a crushing hug. “I can respect that.”

 _Then lead the way, Miss Gilbert,_ she said, securing her bone-white mask in place. Unsurprisingly, it fit just as snugly as the suit did.

“Have you ever been inside the Manhattan Center?” Erin asked, lifting and settling her own mask: a black lacework concoction that could have resembled an owl…or perhaps something more fae.

_First time popping the cherry._

“The event was invitation only, but don’t worry, I’ve got us covered in that department. And seeing as you didn’t come in through the front door…”

_Doors are for dudes. If you’re gonna make an entrance you crawl out of the sewer like a proper miscreant._

They traveled up through a service stairwell, sticking to the industrial hallways used mainly by the cleaning crew. Pausing at a nondescript door, Erin peered through the circular glass window, checking if the coast was clear. After a moment, she waved them through, both stepping into the main hall just off the ballroom.

The sound reached her first, drifting lazily through the walls. Music. Glasses clinking. The general hum of human activity. Holtz felt something deep in her core shudder, a quiver building in her legs that eventually pulled her to a halt, chest tightening.

People.

Topsiders.

_Strangers._

Even behind the safety of her mask, Holtzmann felt an old, ingrained fear leak to the surface like soiled groundwater. All her life she’d been taught to fear the Topside. To never seek it out. To hide from those who tread above because their intentions were never pure, and in most cases, she’d listened to her mother’s instructions. Frequent though her trips may have been, Holtz never sought out strangers, sticking to the shadows, speaking to Helpers only.

There would be no shadows here. No hiding. Nothing to keep her from the gaze of people who would only view her as she was: a monster.

Erin must have subconsciously sensed the physical gap growing between them because she paused further ahead and turned, distressed to find Holtz frozen in the hall. It didn’t take any words between them for the DA to understand what was happening.

“I’m sorry,” she hurried back. “I didn’t take into account you wouldn’t—“

 _I just…need a minute,_ Holtz breathed, turning and pressing herself against the wall. Try as she might, her hands wouldn’t stop shaking until Erin closed the divide, her delicate fingers seeking and finding the Undergrounder’s quaking digits.

“We can go back,” she implored, searching the blonde’s face or what little she could see behind the mask. “We don’t have to do this.”

 _I think I’d regret passing a moment like this up for the rest of my life,_ Holtzmann swallowed dryly. _But I’m… afraid. I’m not like you, Erin. I’m not like anyone in there. I know you’ll hate me for saying this, but I’m a freak. And I’m afraid of how your world will react to seeing…me._

Erin softened, her thumbs gently rubbing the back of Holtz’s hands. “But that’s the beauty of Halloween, isn’t it? Tonight, you’re invisible.”

_How?_

“Because tonight people will be expecting your face. Tonight, everyone in that room will look like you.”

Truth be told, Holtz hadn’t thought of that, and some of the fear ebbed, allowing her to think more clearly. A masquerade. Was there a better place for a creature like her?

_How will I talk to you? You can’t very well carry on a conversation with a dance partner who isn’t moving her mouth._

“So then move your mouth,” Erin laughed, the sound sending a shiver through the other woman. “To anyone watching, I’ll look like I can read lips. Which isn’t far from the truth, but that’s beside the point.”

Holtz blinked in surprise at the simple solution, her smile slowly growing alongside her confidence. _I hadn’t thought of that._

“We’ll go at your pace,” Erin said, disconnecting and stepping away. Holtz immediately missed the contact, fighting to keep from reaching out and drawing Erin back. “If you say stop, we stop. If you say you want to leave, we leave. I follow you tonight.”

It took a few more steadying moments for Holtzmann to gather the tatters of her courage and weave them into action. When she was ready, she nodded for Erin to continue, whispering a repeating mantra: _I’m invisible, I’m invisible, I’m invisible._

Concentration was a hard-won commodity when they emerged from the hall into the three-story ballroom.

It was a dazzling sight that immediately robbed Holtzmann of air. It being Halloween, she’d expected a spooky aesthetic—that’s what the holiday was about, wasn’t it? Ghosts and goblins and all things creepy—but instead it looked plucked from the pages of a Victorian gothic tale. The Phantom of the opera would have been proud to dance in such a place.

As expected, it was crowded, patrons and party attendees alike milling around in their finery. Masks in place, the whole procession looked like transplanted fae or snippets of a Hieronymus Bosch painting: Holtzmann catching glimpses of the grotesque and the beautiful, the beastly and the mundane.

 _I’ve never seen anything like this…_ she marveled, making a slow rotation, eyes on the frescoed ceiling—never mind the hundreds of people milling around her. This was as close to a religious experience as she was going to get. The atmosphere was positively electric.

Erin’s smile grew warmer by degrees the longer she watched her awed friend. She wanted to give Holtzmann a night to remember, and this was merely the start. Once done they would—  

“Erin? Is that you?”

Erin jerked to a halt, cursing colorfully under her breath. No one she knew was supposed to be here tonight, damn it. That’s why she’d chosen the venue so carefully! Sucking in a breath and turning, her hand traveled up to Holtzmann’s bicep and rested there, squeezing a bit in unspoken reassurance.

“Phillip?” she squinted, unsure she was correctly guessing the man behind the rooster mask.

“I didn’t expect to see you here tonight!” To help with his identification, Phillip flipped up his mask, grinning with delight. “My god, you look absolutely stunning.”

“A cock, Phillip…” Erin deadpanned, but her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Really?”

“The true nature of the beast comes out on nights like this,” he winked, clearly having already indulged in the spiked punch. “You should see Brian’s ram mask.”

Erin felt her eyebrows lift in surprise. “Brian’s here tonight?”

“It was his idea to come, actually,” Phillip said, finally realizing the figure standing next to Erin wasn’t simply a bystander. Their shared body language practically screamed otherwise. “You don’t seem to be alone tonight either. Is this the elusive someone who finally put the fire back in your soul?”

Erin opened her mouth, prepared with a witty retort that would have allowed her and Holtz to move away, but Phillip stuck out his hand, cordial and charming as always.

“Good evening!”

Holtzmann stiffed at the man’s friendly greeting, fighting the urge to shrink back or duck her head to hide her face. Erin felt her tense and thought on her feet, moving around to put herself between Phillip and the Undergrounder, acting as a barricade while feigning polite conversation.

“My date for the evening, yes. Phillip, this is Jillian. Jillian, this is Phillip Anderson, the owner of the firm I work for.”

Holtz knew the longer she stalled returning the greeting the more awkward things would become, but she was having trouble catching her breath, the room growing bright around the edges of her vision. There really were a lot of people here.

“Jill works for a theater company in Jersey,” Erin hurriedly went on when her partner didn’t respond, crafting the lie easily. “I thought she’d enjoy seeing the Manhattan Center’s masquerade.” 

“Theater, eh? Which department?”

“Engineering and tech.”

“Ah, well then, this should feel like home to you,” Phillip chuckled, unperturbed by Holtzmann’s inaction, reading it as shyness rather than outright fear.

Finally snapping out of her shock-induced stupor, Holtz swallowed her unease and did the opposite of what her body was screaming, stretching out her hand towards the man who took it and shook liberally.

" _I’m sorry, where are my manners?”_ Holtz signed, opening her connection to Erin so the woman could convey what she was saying. _“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”_

“She said it’s a pleasure to meet you, and she apologized for her manners,” Erin translated, catching the surprised look on Phillip’s face.

“I didn’t know you knew sign language.”

“Jillian’s teaching me,” Erin said lightly like the lie weighed nothing on her tongue.

“Might be something useful to learn for the court—oh my god!” Phillip suddenly exclaimed, stepping closer and practically dragging Holtz towards him. It was all the smaller woman could do to keep from suddenly bolting. She knew what he was looking at, and her stomach punched through the floor between her feet. “That’s one hell of a prosthetic you’ve got on! Did you make it yourself? And you molded your mask to fit it too? Fantastic work!”

A prosthetic. He thought…

Holtz reeled, understanding truly setting in. Was it that simple? _Could_ it be?

On any given day she looked the part of a beast, but today she was more human than anyone in that room because today she was herself while others played at being a monster. The reality of this expanded a giddy balloon in her chest.

One day a year she was totally invisible Topside. How had she not put those pieces together until now?

“I told you, Jill works for a theater company,” Erin said, smile brittle with worry.

“It’s so lifelike. And are those fangs and claws added as well? Wow! Erin, find this woman an agent quickly and get her to Hollywood. That is some seriously impressive work.”

_“Thank you. I’ve worked a lifetime to look this good.”_

Caught off guard by the calm confidence, it took Erin a moment to translate.

“And it shows,” Phillip beamed, catching a server as he breezed by with a tray of champagne. Erin accepted a flute while Holtz declined, the DA eagerly partaking in something that would take the edge off this encounter. She felt about as raw as she did during her first jury trial.

_“So I guess I shouldn’t ask if the cock up top matches the one below?”_

Erin choked, inhaling champagne and very nearly snorting it out through her nose had she not slapped her hand over her mouth. Beside her, Holtz beamed, clearly becoming more comfortable in her environment. Phillip looked between them, waiting expectantly for a translation.

“I’m so sorry,” Erin apologized, getting herself back under control. “The cold weather wreaks havoc on my allergies. Jillian wanted to know if you made the mask yourself.”

_That’s not even close to what I asked._

“Oh god, no. I don’t possess an artistic bone in my body,” Phillip chuckled. At that moment a figure sporting a ram mask slid next to him, pecking the man on the cheek and muttering something into Phillip’s ear. To her avid relief, Erin took the opportunity to excuse them and pulled Holtzmann away before any more questions were asked.

“You’re going to get me into trouble,” she hissed low into Holtz’s ear as they threaded through the crowd.

 _But you’re such a good liar,_  she teased, looking around in earnest now that she knew no one would expect the beast in their midst.

“In a courtroom maybe, but not to my boss.” 

_He seems like a lovely fellow. Him and his partner._

“Phillip is one of my best friends,” Erin explained. “Had we gone into law together at the same time, he and I could have well become business partners, but I’m happy to work for him.”

 _So, you don’t attend a lot of parties like this?_ She was trying to make polite conversation in an attempt to thaw the ice still wrapped around her heart, but the attempt felt brittle and forced.

“Not often,” Erin admitted, leading them around the fringes of partygoers. “When I was younger, my father used to drag me to them. Culture, he claimed, was something one learned rather than being born into. I understand their importance, but I’ve never felt engaged when attending.”

_Is that where you learned how to dance?_

Erin smiled fondly to herself, something Holtzmann didn’t miss. “My mother actually taught me. We took classes together before she died. She told me it was important I learned how to dance so I could show off at my eventual wedding. I think she just wanted to take the classes so we had time together.”

 _Your mother sounds like a wonderful woman,_ Holtz said, unable to ignore the sadness creeping into Erin’s eyes. It killed her knowing she was causing a portion of it.

“I miss her.”

Pausing near a refreshment table—Erin was fine but Holtz needed something to wash the tightness from her throat—Erin watched the crowd, the mood somber where just moments ago it had been light.

“There’s still so much left to say between us,” she eventually said, fidgeting with her hands, knowing where she wanted to place them but unsure if they were wanted. “I have so much I want to tell you and show you, but right now…let’s just dance.”

She turned, eyes sparkling with unshed emotion, hand out for the only partner she wanted in her life.

 _I’ve never danced before,_ Holtzmann admitted sheepishly, tugging at the edges of her suit jacket. _I mean…I have. Just not—_

“I can show you if you’d like,” Erin offered with a hopeful smile.

 _You know…_  she shrugged setting aside her drink. _I think I’d like that._

Unable to hide her relieved smile, Erin extended her arm which Holtz took, the two sweeping into an open pocket on the dance floor.

It was warmer here and thick with the scent of perfume and cologne. Bodies brushed past them, couples locked in their own revolving galaxies. Holtzmann felt like a transplanted star adrift without purpose, tugged along by Erin’s gravity, but that was enough.

They began as most partners did, close enough to share a breath. The song before was dying slowly in the distance, another racing to take its place with a boisterous note from nearby speakers, synthetic bass and keyboard rumbling with 80’s glee through the floor.

The hairs on the back of Holtz’s neck stood on end at the same moment Erin’s skin prickled. Suddenly the room and their fellow compatriots fell away until it was only a beauty and her beast. The graceful beat of the music swirled around their feet like a cool breeze, the spark suddenly leaping between them powerful enough it could have illuminated the whole room had the auditorium plunged into darkness.

Erin bowed smoothly at the waist—her smile barely contained—causing Holtz’s own face to break into a fanged grin. She reciprocated with playful finesse, fighting the raging butterflies taking flight in her abdomen when they joined: her right hand low on Erin’s back while the DA took the higher hold, fingers light on her shoulder.

“Are you ready?” Erin breathed, excitement turning her eyes into topaz gems.

 _For you,_ Holtz said honestly, _always._

Erin pushed off, taking the lead, eyes never once leaving Holtz. She knew this dance. Knew this game, but tonight she would be both guide and guardian, opening herself to the grace she knew her partner possessed.

Dry-swallowing and stiff, Holtz’s unease was plain from the beginning, her heart a caged hummingbird beating behind her sternum. She faltered early on trying to find a suitable rhythm while focusing too closely on her feet, on her hands, on the other bodies circling around them. Why was this so hard? The movies always made it look effortless.

“Relax,” Erin whispered, squeezing her hand to reaffirm her she wasn’t going anywhere. “Just listen to the music. Break the rhythm down in your head and your body will synchronize all on its own.”

 _I’ve never danced like this before_.

“It’s no different than when you danced for me in your lab,” Erin winked. “I’ve seen what those hips can do.”

The brashness of Erin’s flirting successfully kicked Holtzmann out of her funk with a helpless laugh. Break it down. She could do that. Briefly closing her eyes, she instantly sought and found the rhythm.

One-two-three-four.

One-two-three-four.

One-two-three-four.

A simple four count, nothing more, but to Holtzmann it was her world.

Step by tentative step she began to understand the rhythm for what it was—allowed it to permeate her marrow and soul—as Erin guided her around the room, forever patient. Their eyes never lowered, Erin’s touch feather light yet firm, and with each rotation Holtzmann grew bolder, hands tightening around her partner’s until she could feel their conjoined heartbeat fluttering against her skin.

She knew this dance, didn’t she? It was the same one her heat had been doing from the moment she’d laid eyes on Erin all those months ago. All she had to do was reach out and grasp it like Icarus reaching for the sun, waxwings falling away and sending her into blissful freefall.

The tides turned in a fluid rush that left Erin momentarily breathless as Holtz rose up to meet her, leveling the playing field. They twirled around the iridescent ballroom awash in color and joy. Each step synchronized them further. Each spin. Each twist. Each dip bringing them closer together, bodies gravitating towards one another like the pull of the sun against the planets.

Cheekily throwing caution to the wind, Holtz twirled her partner like she’d seen in countless movies, Erin’s dress spinning and snapping, heeled shoes scraping softly against the marble. The sudden halt of her spin as they reconnected pulled the DA’s loose hair over one shoulder, a bright flush heating her cheeks.

“You’re catching on.”

 _I’m a fast learner,_ Holtz grinned, finally starting to feel in her element.

“Show rather than tell,” Erin breathed into her ear, sending a shock of scorching heat into Holtzmann’s lower belly.

Again they separated, only to come back together like waves crashing against a coastal wall, noses very nearly touching, bodies only inches apart. This close, Erin could see every facet of Holtzmann’s blue eyes. How the color shifted around her iris in varying hues. How they danced while looking at her, calling to her soul.

The spark of something carnal and wild chose that moment to ignite with a vengeance, energy arching between the two as they stared at one another, hearts pounding like twin war drums.

This was all either of them wanted. This was submission and acceptance. Not total forgiveness. That would come later, but there was no doubt the look they shared wasn’t one born of love.

“I had one more thing planned for tonight, if you have the time?” Erin asked when the song came to a close, cheeks ruddy and body vibrating, chest heaving a little. They hadn’t left the dancefloor. She wanted to keep this moment going for as long as possible.

 _I think I could spare a few more moments,_ Holtz teased, practically giddy all on her own. _I mean, I’ve not really put this suit through its paces, have I? Seems a waste for just one dance._

“I think we can fix that,” Erin grinned wickedly, taking the Undergrounder by the hand and leading her towards the exit. Holtzmann faltered only once, a stutter of shock working through her as they neared the glass doors that would ultimately lead her into the city. Into _her_ city. Into the true Topside.

“Do you trust me?” Erin whispered, squeezing her hand tightly.

_You and only you._

That was affirmation enough. In three quick steps Holtzmann walked out of the Manhattan Center and into a world she’d only ever seen from below.

She felt like a cave dweller glimpsing the sun for the first time, standing in awe at the neon bathing her in three-hundred and sixty degrees of glow. And never once did anyone spare her a passing glance. The hum of activity nestled like hornets in her bones, making her vibrate from the inside out.

They traveled in a blur, or so it felt. The world moved at a different pace Topside. At a different rhythm. It wasn’t like she was unaccustomed to New York or it’s currents, but there was something altogether mesmerizing about the lights and the sounds and the people.

Erin’s hand never left Holtzmann’s. Not when they entered a cab—the experience of her first car ride both exhilarating and traumatizing, though her face never left the window as she watched the city slide by, absorbing it all. Not when they exited at a towering building who’s upper spires were lost to the night. Not when they swept into a deserted lobby awash in marble and historical plaques, Erin nodding knowingly at the lingering security guard—there were perks of being a DA in this city. Not even when they boarded an elevator that rocketed them into the heavens, Holtzmann’s stomach-churning treacherously when she realized how high up they were.

When at last they stepped out of the lift into a glass room on the eighty-sixth floor, Holtzmann had honestly forgotten what it felt like to breathe.

_Erin…_

“I’m right beside you,” she reassured tenderly, motioning her forward.

Together they pushed past the glass doors of the Empire State Build’s observation deck and walked onto the shore of a glittering diamond sea, New York’s skyline stretching well past the horizon in lapping waves of glass, steel, brick and light.

“I wanted to show you your city,” Erin said quietly beside an emotional Holtzmann, taking in the sight like this was her first time. Even after four decades, the skyline still had the power to take her breath away. “This place is as much mine as it is yours, and you deserved to see it at its best.”

 _I never imagined…_ Holtz breathed, conquering her unease and moving against the protective fencing running the perimeter of the deck, threading her fingers through the links. The tears in her eyes cooled against the wind, but she didn’t move to brush them away, letting them fall. _It’s beautiful. And it goes on forever._

“It almost feels that way. They say New York is the center of the universe. Looking out at a view like that, you can almost start to believe it’s the truth.”

_You brought me to the top of the world._

“It’s the least I could do after shattering it,” Erin said, biting hard into her bottom lip.       

 _You don’t have to do this,_ Holtz turned, reluctant to drag her eyes away from the majesty unrolling before her, but somehow it paled in comparison to the woman standing beside her, blue eyes scanning the horizon.

“But I do. Because you deserve an apology and an explanation about what happened that night rather than an excuse.”

_You’ve already apologized._

“Then let me explain.”

Erin dipped her head for a moment, taking the opportunity to wrangle her thoughts. She couldn’t very well blurt out half the reason for her behavior was due to discovering Holtz’s adopted mother was in league with the North crime family. That wasn’t her place to reveal something so damning. It was also an excuse. Yes, finding out who Gorin was employed with during her early years had been a visceral shock, but Erin had been running from something far more personal.

“The truth is, up until that night almost a year ago my life had been rather routine. I lived for my work and that was it. I didn’t really have prospects for the future other than work until retirement, maybe get married along the way, maybe not, and I was comfortable with that. I was comfortable in general because it was safe repetition, and then all of a sudden my world shattered after one night of violence that brought both of our lives into collision. And ever since then, I’ve been trying and failing to glue myself back together, but the pieces wouldn’t fit, and that frustrated me.

“For the longest time, I thought there was something wrong with me. Like I was incapable of putting myself back together until I realized I _had_ put myself back together, in a manner of speaking. I just wasn’t the same person as before because along the way I’d gained a few new pieces.”

Erin stepped close, gently removing Holtz’s mask so she could cup the smaller woman’s face in her hands. Her next few words would stop the progression of time and bend all of creation towards them both.

“I’ve been running from this, from _you,_ for too long. You were the missing piece, and I was too scared and unsure to admit that. I thought maybe all of this was a fluke, that I’d fallen in love with my rescuer because she showed me kindness in my darkest hour, but the truth is, I didn’t fall in love with you in the Underground. I fell in love with you the day you brought me Topside and let me go. And I’ve been falling in love with you ever since.”

The kiss that joined their bodies wasn’t a hungry one. It wasn’t desperate or clawing or perfumed heavily with lust. It was gently grounding, rooting them in the here and now, twinging two souls into their own gravitational dance. It pulled them in, made them one, hearts synching rhythms as the final puzzle pieces fell into place, making them whole.

"Will you dance with me at the top of the world?" Erin asked when they finally separated, not daring to move more than a few inches away from Holtzmann, hands low on her hips, breath fogging the air.

_Spin me away._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We did it, you all. We finally got there. These two idiots are finally there, and I think you know what's coming next ;)


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is literally 3K worth of pure smut. You're welcome.
> 
> Strongly inspired by: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B2Wb4dEwp_c

They could have danced until sunrise, sweeping each other around the shore of a golden sea hundreds of feet above the earth, but inevitability pulled these two stars together, their collision moving both heaven and earth.

They had been coy before. Let their hands wander the length and breadth of each other, learning the lay of the land, so to speak, but it was always done on the shy side of caution. Never overreaching. Never presuming.

Tonight there was no question what the other wanted and what they were willing to give to get it.

It was an altogether different sensation for Erin falling through her door wrapped in someone else’s embrace and _remembering_ it. Hell, _starving_ for it. How they’d managed to get back to her apartment was an inconsequential blip in their evening. Maybe they’d danced into the shadows and magically moved locations. More than likely it was a cab.  

Together they thumped against Erin’s door—closing it with a hard click—hands never stilling, pulling at hems and buttons and fabric like they’re trying to unwrap each other. Clothes came off in layered chunks, little thought or care put into the removal. It was desperate like they were running out of time and had to devour the other before they were ripped away again.

This was a marathon run as a thousand yard dash.

Dark fabric pooled at Erin’s feet as her dress slipped from her shoulders, taking Holtzmann’s breath with it. Bare save for a pair of black lace underwear—a bra wouldn’t have worked with the dress—and her heels, the DA stood proudly in her partial nudity, eyes heavy-lidded and body on fire.

There was a distinct difference imagining someone naked and actually _seeing_ it in person, and Holtz was having trouble computing.

Using the hiccup in their pace, Erin spun Holtz around in an effortless twirl that put her back against the door and slipped a leg between her thighs, using the forward motion to grind into the junction between her legs—the heat already scorching at this point. Holtz gasped into Erin's kiss, fingers curling into the soft skin of her waist at the same moment she rose, their bodies nearly fusing as Erin’s slight fingers worked free the buttons of Holtz’s shirt with fevered determination.

The smell. The taste. The feeling. It was intoxicating and Erin drank Holtzmann in one hungry kiss at a time. The sensation of her tongue ghosting over the sharp tips of fangs was new but it woke something carnal. Something wild and hot that perfumed the air, making them both a little wild.

There was little finesse put into getting from the door to the couch. Edges were bumped into. Apologies muttered against lips and throat and collar. They tumbled onto the cushions together, Holtzmann sitting heavily back while Erin straddled her, an alabaster vision in the semi-darkness.

If Erin was drinking Holtzmann in the Undergrounder was already drunk by this point, head spinning and pulse raging. Her touch--the weight, sent, taste of her--was water kissing desert soul, breathing life back into the barren earth. They shared a moan when Holtz’s shaking hands followed the seam of Erin’s underwear to the superheated junction between her legs, fingertips barely tucking under the fabric but already feeling the wetness growing there.

Electricity pooled in the hollow of Erin’s pelvis at Holtz's gentle ministrations, and she pushed down into the hand against her groin, groaning at the contact. She could feel the heel of Holtz's palm just outside her underwear, a bit too high to hit what so desperately needed contact, and shifted closer, grinding down with a languid roll of her torso, breathing obscenities into the shared air around—

Erin pumped the beaks. Hard. She _had_ to because she out of the two of them possessed the most experience, the most control, and as much as she wanted to let herself fly into this supernova exploding around them, her role was pilot tonight.

Leaning back, she put a small amount of distance between them, letting the cool night air quench their combined burn. “Wait. Holtz I—”

_Jill._

Erin blinked owlishly at the correction, mind slow to find it’s gear. Holtzmann looked fit to bursting in the best way, but she tempered herself enough to form coherent thought, the blush raging in her cheeks making Erin smile. _Call me…Jill. It—it just sounds right on your tongue. My name, I mean. I mean, Holtz is my name too, but Jill is—_

“Intimate,” Erin finished, warming like a nova’s glow. Holtz—no _Jillian—_ responded with a shy nod. “Jill, I need to know if this is what you want.”

 _What?_ she asked foggily, struggling to rise above the haze of want and need.

“This. Us. _Now_ ,” Erin tried to elaborate, feeling the words bunch up on her tongue. Using her hands to drag out her emphasis wasn’t helping either. “What we’re doing. Where this is clearly going.”

A chill worked through the blonde, cooling the boil of her blood. _You don’t want this?_ And as much as she tried not to, it came across as,  _You don’t want me?_

“No—no—no—no, I do. I really,” Erin puffed out her cheeks, struggling with self-control as she ran her fingers across Holtz’s bare shoulders, “ _really_ do. But I know you’ve…”

 _Never done something like this,_ Holtz filled in quietly, letting her head flop back. Christ, it was hard to concentrate with a beautiful woman straddling her hips.

“Right. Yes. And I—” Erin faltered, feeling like she was running out of rope. “I don’t want to disappoint…you. My first time wasn’t all that stellar, being honest, and I just—you see it’s—shit, I’m making this about me, I’m sor—”

A soft hand cupping her cheek stilled her. Holtz brought their lips together, tenderly kissing the tension from Erin’s body which she released in a long breath out her nose. _Are you always this accommodating with your partners?_  

“This _is_ a mutual thing, and we kind of both need to enjoy it,” Erin husked a laugh. “I don’t want tonight to be about what I want, and I don’t want you to feel pressured.”

 _I want this,_ Holtz smiled toothily, the hungry burn her in eyes ensuring that Erin soaked through her underwear early on.

“Do you?”

 _Absolutely_ , she nodded hard for emphasis, settling her hands on Erin’s hips and pushing her down while she rolled up to punctuate her point. _I trust you. All of you, Erin. I want this. I want you, so yes a thousand times._

She swallowed hard, thankful the semi-darkness hid the awkward flush. Save for Jessie--which she didn't recall--it had been a long time. “I’ll go slow. You tell—”

 _Erin,_ it came out as a laugh but there was strain behind it. _If you don’t touch me I’m going to self-combust._

Well now…when put that way.

It was like a switch being thrown, the wolf unhooked from its leash to chase down her prey. The hunger returned with a vengeance, and Erin sated it with tooth and tongue, working lines of bruising fire down Holtzmann’s neck and chest with renewed vigor.  

They hadn’t completely disrobed—Holtz still wearing the black slacks that fit her so perfectly and Erin in her underwear, but she didn’t mind. It was better this way, she thought, the waistband rigid enough it supported her wrist when her hand slid south, cool fingers meeting slick arousal and heat. The angle was a bit awkward but worth it.

Holtzmann gasped and jerked like she’d been electrocuted. Erin stilled, carefully watching the younger woman for signs of distress. Found none. Kept watching in rapt attention at the havoc her finger created as she drew lazy circle around the sensitive bundle of nerves just above Holtz’s opening. Like reading a book, it didn’t take long for Erin to find the ideal rhythm. She greedily swallowed moan after moan until Holtzmann’s breathing sped into panting gasps, the air turning muggy around them.

A thought occurred to Erin some minutes later as she watched the Undergrounder coming unraveled and stopped, withdrawing her hand with an innocent smile. Dazed by the sudden loss of contact, Holtzmann struggled to regain her bearings, a whine slipping from the back of her throat.

“What kind of host would I be if I let us come undone on my sofa?” Erin teased after a languid kiss that melted the woman back into the cushions, taking Holtz by the hands and guiding her to her feet.

 _A kinky one?_ came the muddled reply.

Erin laughed, the sparkle in her eyes hinting at something dangerous just below the surface. “I’d like some room to move if that’s okay?”

The implication—spiked liberally with a deliciously dirty undertow—very nearly liquified every joint in Holtzmann's body, but she steadied herself, following Erin’s gentle guidance to her bedroom where she backed Holtz up until the backs of her knees brushed the mattress.

“May I?” Erin asked, fingers skimming the waist of Holtz’s rightfully ruined slacks. Unable to form coherent sentences, the blonde nodded with a dry swallow, shivering against the sensation of Erin’s hands against her skin.

The button popped with little resistance, fabric pooling on the floor at Erin’s guidance. It was a dirty move—fingertips hooking Holtz’s sensible underwear and drawing them down too, the tips of her nails trailing the back of her legs as she divested her of clothing—but it had its perks. Namely the opportunity to take in the full beauty of the woman before her.

As much as Holtz appeared inhuman in the face, her body was softly opposite. Seen in its raw entirety, Erin felt the edge of her need dull into quiet admiration.

Sinewy and lean, smooth and pale, Holtz’s build was tailormade for life as an inventor in the tunnels. The only thing that seemed amiss were patches of blonde “fur” running in a wide stripe down both her abdomen and spine and silvery lines of old scars crisscrossing like a roadmap across her skin. Some were deep and puckered, the lingering remains of trauma, while others were shallow and more likely caused by mishaps in the lab, but in every other way, Holtz was as human as the rest of the New York populace.

The kiss of the room’s cool air made Holtzmann shiver, the urge to seek some type of cover overwhelming to the point she had to lock her arms to keep from crossing them over her chest.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been fully naked in front of someone. Modesty wasn’t a crux of her person, but growing up as she had, clothes were the first line of defense. They were her armor as much as they were a necessary part of life Underground, so it didn’t need to be said she felt shy standing naked before Erin.

“Beautiful,” she whispered tenderly, laying a kiss just below Holtz’s bellybutton that practically made her vibrate. “Stunning,” she kissed lower, hands snaking around behind the blonde to cup the dip of her ass. “Mine,” she finished with a possessive growl.

Holtzmann jumped with a sharp intake feeling Erin’s tongue dart out and lick just above her slit, flattening as she dragged out the sensation. It made her head spin, pulse in her neck. Was she backing up? Was Erin doing that? It didn’t matter because she was now seated on the bed with on leg hooked over Erin’s shoulder, while the other was guided to the side, opening her fully to the night air.

Erin caught Holtzmann’s gaze and held it for a heartbeat—her unspoken question burning across the short distance. The Undergrounder managed a nod that devolved into a moan the neighbors might have heard when Erin’s tongue made contact with the outside of her folds.

She took her time, savoring the moment as much as the taste. Kiss, lick, suck, bite, Erin cycled through them all, starting at Holtz’s right inner thigh and working across to the other, spending languid moments at her center, learning every nook and ridge like a cartographer.

A fitting analogy as Erin explored unknown territory for the first time.

She was gentle. Oh so gentle. Almost clinical at first because Holtzmann was a novice and she was experienced and sometimes that could be the undoing of an encounter. She was also torturously patient for selfish reasons that made Erin’s cheeks burn, her own arousal soaking through in the catch of her underwear, lower belly on fire.

The angle was perfect but it wasn’t enough. Erin wanted to feel as much as taste, so she pushed until they both occupied the bed, crouching between Holtz's splayed legs. Arms locking around trembling thighs, Erin lapped and explored, teasing with her tongue and sucking lightly with her lips and was struck by a sudden, powerful understanding that raised goosebumps down her spine.

Aside from that singular moment months ago in Holtzmann’s lab, this was the first time Erin was hearing Jillian’s physical voice in the raw without strain or constraint. So it went without saying exhalations weren’t enough. If Erin couldn’t hear her speak she could at least hear her scream.

Holtz was ready when she finally abandoned her foreplay. Had been a while ago but Erin wanted to be sure, wanted to make certain everything was perfect for when she crawled up the Undergrounder like a puma—peppering her with scorching kisses along the way.

“Jill,” she purred into her ear, sucking on the lobe while her fingers swiped through a ludicrous amount of arousal, nearly bringing Holtz off the bed. “I’d like to take you to pieces.”

There really was no point in asking, but this was fun, Erin’s smile wickedly sharp.

 _Please,_ came the strangled reply, Holtz’s body stretching up to meet Erin, bending into hers like the belly of a bow. _PLEASE!_

Her eyes were half-lidded, the pitch of her chest elevated, but her entire being crackled like lightning across a turbulent sky when Erin hummed a smile like thunder against her lips and slid two fingers inside.

Eyes flying open, Holtz sucked in so hard it was like she was seeing the face of god for the first and only time. Erin stilled, letting her accommodate, letting her stretch, before rocking forward ever so lightly. The moan attached to Erin's name bubbling past the blonde’s lips was filthy and made her ache to touch herself. Soon, she thought. Very soon.

Switching between sucking another bruise into livid color on Holtz's neck, laving at pebbled nipples, and stroking her clit, Erin worked a steady rhythm, drawing every iota of air from her partner only to push it back in again: over and over and over. Benedictions and prayers were sent skyward, names of deities neither believed in crossing their lips.

With each thrust, Holtz bore down a little harder, rode a little more freely—hands fisted in the sheets—fucking herself on Erin’s fingers. God, she’d never felt this full before. Instinct brought her legs around Erin’s slender waist, drawing her in, pushing the thrusts deeper, harder, faster. Oh god,  _faster._

Matching Holtzmann’s harried pace, Erin detected a slight wrinkle in the woman’s brow the longer they rode their passion out and read it for that it was. Biting her lip, she toyed with an idea, keeping it to herself for fear of breaking Holtz’s concentration should she shift. But when the Undergrounder ground her teeth, growling in frustration, Erin understood and moved, seamlessly straddling one of the blonde’s thighs while adding a third finger to the mix and curling them.

It was like setting off a bomb.

Holtzmann felt the change and reared, almost bucking Erin off had she not been bent over her torso—the sudden impact of the woman’s thigh connecting with her groin sending shoots of euphoria up Erin’s spine. Suddenly weak, she pitched forward, driving her fingers deep and sending the young woman over the edge.

She’d experienced orgasms before on her own terms, of course. Coaxed her body to climax like any healthy thirty-two-year old could, but this release was different. Holtzmann was spinning into the stratosphere, head thrown back and lungs pumping before they clamp close around a silent scream the same moment her body clamped around Erin’s fingers.

Climax bent Holtz’s spine like it’s been hit by a sudden, powerful current, nearly bringing her off the bed. Her cry was wild and unhinged and _feral_.

Erin watched, a throb of molten want turning her blood to acid. Her curling fingers slowed their purposeful stroking, dragging Holtz’s orgasm out until the blonde sank bonelessly onto the mattress, spent and gasping. Erin cleaned her hand on the sheets and gently lay beside her, trailing a hand up and down Holtz’s stomach, playing in the soft fur as she brought her back to earth.

“You still with me?” she hummed, unashamedly admiring the beauty beside her and what she’d done.

 _Barely,_ Holtz managed after a handful of seconds, her connection fuzzy. _Holy shit._

“A proper response, I think.”

_I’d ask how you got so good at that, but it seems kind of insensitive and rude._

“Practice makes perfect, they say,” Erin chuckled, using her arm to prop her head up and sinking into the unbelievable understanding she was lying beside the person she wanted most in the world. It was hard to believe this wasn’t fantasy and though she’d just finished touching her, Erin ached to do it again. “But I’m going to go with age makes certain things all the sweeter.”

 _So does that make you a fine wine?_ Holtz quipped, finally starting to drift out of her post-orgasm afterglow. _Excellent._

“I guess that depends,” Erin retorted boldly, jacking herself up on her elbow with a quirked eyebrow. “You can’t drink alcohol.”

Something in Holtz’s demeanor shifted from playfully loose to challengingly coiled, the subtlety raising the hairs on the back of Erin’s neck. In the blink of an eye, she found herself on the flat of her back, Holtzmann’s arms braced on either side of her head. Startled, Erin stared up through a cascade of blonde curls, the feral light in Holtz’s eyes harking back to the dream Erin had months ago…the dream of the monster in her bed, devouring, eyes hungry with cold blue fire.

_I guess I won’t know unless I taste for myself._

“Then taste,” Erin countered, trying to keep the shake from her voice. She reached up and smoothed back a few strands of fallen hair behind Holtz's slightly pointed ear, the move gentle and warm. “Touch. Explore. I’m yours.”

Two words, never the more simple, stilled the howling beast of desire in Holtzmann as surely as stepping into a soundproof room. It made her look around. Made her aware of what and _who_ was actually under her and what that meant.

 _I’m yours._ Submission. Trust. _Love._

Yes, it was love. Not spoken aloud, not yet, but it brushed it by a hairsbreadth.   

Erin caught the stunned expression and must have misread it as something unsavory by how quickly her brow scrunched with concern, but Holtzmann soothed her worry, reaching out to touch with new hands and new understanding.

It was like she’d been blind until that moment.

Alabaster and moonlight, mahogany and stardust stretched out on the bed like a Greek statue. Holtzmann wasn’t a poet, but Erin was a vision, and she was more than a little afraid this was a mirage. That she’d wake in the morning and find this whole night had been a dream, a cruel Samhain joke.

The worry brought her hands up to trail lightly across Erin’s skin, just enough to feel the brush of small hairs along the pads of her fingers. Erin arched, biting her bottom lip, feeling the gravity of what was settling around them.

Rough hands began tracing patterns on planes of cool flesh, memorizing every iota like a blind man learning brail, stopping when they ran across a slightly puckered seam just below Erin’s ribs.

Even in the low light, Holtz could make out the dark line of the scar. To the unsuspecting onlooker, it might seem insignificant—an accident or maybe a childhood surgery— but it was so much more.

It was strange how a single act of unspeakable violence could write the prologue to their beginning in blood and pain. Had that night never happened, their paths never would have crossed. In a way, Holtz was grateful to the universe, but she could have lost Erin before ever gaining her. Had she been a few minutes too late…  

Leaning in with quiet reverence, she placed a gentle kiss against the scar, against the memories that still pained Erin, against the lingering trauma that would always haunt her. Erin felt it pull something in her soul, tears leaking out before she could stop them. No one had ever touched her so tenderly.

 _Show me,_ Holtz said—looking momentarily lost—thankful she spoke through their shared mental corridor because her voice would have broken at the request. Erin frowned in her own misunderstanding until she put two and two together.

 _Show me,_ she implored, neglecting the rest because it didn’t need to be said. “ _Show me how to be a lover.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It finally happened, and honestly, I think this is the porniest thing I've written in a long while, holy shit. I'm not really one for writing detailed smut, but hey, I love you guys and you need some fun every now and then. I would have liked to make it longer, but this was more about Holtz tonight than Erin. Plus, ending it there is so fucking sweet, goddamn.
> 
> So what did you think? Everything you hoped for in this story? Welp, onto actual plot XD


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little up and down here. This is kind of two chapters smushed into one, hence the size. We're getting towards the end of things, my lovelies. I hope you're all ready.

She woke with a start sometime before dawn kissed the heavens, startled and confused. The noises were different. It didn’t smell like the tunnels. Didn’t feel like her blankets. This wasn’t her home.

Holtzmann blinked awake and half sat up, using her elbow to jack herself up high enough to see. The room was dark yet familiar, the sheets around her cool save for the spots warmed by her and Erin’s body heat…

Erin.

The body in the bed beside her hadn’t shifted, but Holtzmann could detect the gentle rise and fall of her chest, breathing slow and level as she slept on her stomach, covers just barely clinging to her lower half.

Easing into a sitting position—careful not to depress the bed—Holtz took in the sight of the woman beside her, memory quick to recall the sticky night they’d shared before slipping to sleep in each other’s arms. She couldn’t remember feeling this happy. This complete. Arms wrapped around her knees, Holtz rested her chin on them and sank into the velvety moment. It seemed impossible being here. Being with Erin. _Being_ Erin’s.

She stayed like that for a time—watching and listening—before sliding out of bed and padding to the window. The view wasn’t as spectacular as the one at the top of the world, but it was no less arresting.

Scant hours ago, Erin had shown Holtzmann their city. Standing atop the Empire State Building, the beauty of New York seemed to go on forever. It awed Holtz. All her life she’d only known the world by looking up. Now she stood naked and unafraid at Erin’s window looking down at a city both alien and familiar, terrifying and welcome.

Puffing out a slow breath, she raised her hand and placed it against the cold, fogged glass. It was officially November. Before long, winter would grip the city like it did every year, but this time things felt different. This time things _were_ different, but a sobering thought stilled the swirl of giddy emotions expanding Holtz’s chest.

One night of revelry didn’t change the fact that though Topside belonged to her as much as the Underground did, it wasn’t her world. The magic of the previous night was gone, taking with it her anonymity. Once again, Holtzmann moved as a monster among men.

So the question became: leave now while shadows applied their cover or stay in the bliss she so desperately craved.

“Jill?”

Even spoken softly, Erin’s sleep-muddled call cut through the velvety darkness like a shout, stilling Holtzmann. When Erin couldn’t locate her bedmate, she sat up, squinting into the half-light until she located the woman standing at her window.

 _Sorry_ , Holtz apologized, moving the curtains back over the cool panes and shielding Erin from the light. _I didn’t mean to wake you._

“You’re fine,” Erin said around a yawn. “Is everything alright?”

_Just listening to the city breathe._

A beat of silence stretched across the night, heavy despite its gossamer blanket. Erin didn’t move from the bed, sensing Holtzmann was wrestling with something that ended when she abandoned the window and crawled back into bed.

After thirty-two years hiding, she could spend one night Topside.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

 _Absolutely,_ Holtz smiled, pulling Erin in for a kiss that could have easily reignited the fires of their earlier encounter. The slow simmer of passion lingered just below the surface, but the night’s cool atmosphere tempered it, drawing the women closer as if their proximity could stave off reality for just a few more hours.

“Will you stay?” Erin asked tentatively after they’d broken apart.

_Forever, if you’ll allow it._

“I think I can handle that,” Erin smiled warmly. Holtz curled into her, tucking her head against Erin’s chest. Closing her eyes, she began to drift again.

“I’m here,” the older woman said, threading her fingers absently through her partner’s hair, already drifting back to sleep despite her best efforts.

_I feel you_

* * *

 

Holtz wouldn’t count this as a “walk of shame”. There was no “shame” about the way she made her way back into the tunnels after a prolonged—and rightfully steamy—goodbye with Erin. It was more of a “sneak of mild concern” because while she’d been gone overnight before during Underground treks, Holtz was usually good about letting people know where she was going.

That hadn’t been the case when she left to meet Erin the night before at the Halloween gala. Now she was sneaking back home despite her thirty-two years of age, feeling what all those sitcom teens must have felt attempting to climb back in through their windows.

Taking a more secluded route home via the Underground entrance near Erin’s home, she couldn’t keep the stubborn grin from ghosting across her face, steps springy and carefree. Was this what it felt like to be in love? The songs and the movies didn’t do it justice.

Grinning against a sudden burst of joy, Holtz took the drainage tunnel she was in at a sudden run. Ten yards away, the smooth concrete pipe dropped into an open chasm more than a hundred feet deep, but the sharp drop meant nothing to her as she went airborne at the ledge, leaping across the pit and sliding the rest of the way to the bottom by jumping from copper pipe to copper pipe. Tarzan would have been proud.  

Adrenaline pumping, Holtz whooped and ran, taking corners with reckless abandon, letting herself move on autopilot while her mind and heart soared. In love…she was in love. And Erin loved her back. Her. This weird tunnel rat who’d lived her entire life Underground. It was enough to make her want to sing had she possessed the ability to speak.

Reaching the hidden lift that would take her home the back way, Holtz kicked open the gate with unnecessary flare, dancing to a rhythm only she could hear.

“You two fucked, didn’t you?”

 _Tesla’s flaccid dick!_ Holtz jumped and screamed, her grip on the pipe she’d used to swing into the lift almost failing, causing her to stumble to a stop. _Abby, what the hell?_

Her Aunt leaned against the back of the cage in almost complete darkness, arms crossed, looking smug. Had she not spoken, Holtzmann would have never seen her. One of the benefits of being blind the way Abby was, she didn’t need any forms of light to see, just sound.

“Sneaking back in through the backdoor doesn’t look good on your part.” Surprisingly, there wasn’t judgment in Abby’s voice. Only bemusement.

 _I’m not sneaking back in,_ Holtz snorted unconvincingly after righting herself—careful to keep her collar high in case Abby spotted the bruises on her neck.

“Bullshit.”

_I’m not! I just decided to—_

“Finally hook-up with the woman you’ve been pining after for the past few months? I’m torn between throwing you a party and smacking you upside the head.”

Thankfully, there was minimal sputtering on her part but plenty of indignation. _I’ve not been pin—_

“How was the gala?” Using the handle of her white cane, Abby slapped down the leaver in the lift, sending the machine coasting towards the next floor, effectively trapping her niece inside with her.

For a split second Holtzmann seriously believed she could lie her way out of this until Abby produced a crumpled piece of paper—Erin’s letter—with a dramatic flourish. If Holtz’s eyes grew any wider they’d pop out of her head.

“You really should burn your mail. Be thankful _I_ found this.”

Oh, this was bad. This was very, very not good. _It wasn’t…we didn’t—I mean we_ did _but it…and she…_

“Was the sex that good you forgot how to use your words? Goddamn, you think it would cure my blindness?”

Holtzmann buried her face in her hands, heat creeping up her neck. _It’s not what you think._

“Oh, it’s not?” Reaching out, Abby took Holtz’s right hand and held it up like a piece of crucial evidence. “I like what you did with your nails. Since when did you start cutting them so short? Did Erin file them for you?”

Holtz snatched her hand back. _How did you even see that!?_

“I’m blind, not stupid, Jill,” Abby snorted. “Believe it or not, I have a basic understanding of how sex works even if I’ve not had it in years. You don’t have a dick you use what you have on—”

 _Oh my god, I don’t want to hear this,_ Holtz groaned, slapping her hands over her ears and humming loudly.

“Too bad,” Abby spoke over her, exiting the lift when it settled. Holtz had to jog to keep up, internally worried her Aunt was headed to inform Gorin of her daughter’s return. “You set yourself up for a lifetime of snark and jabs. But before I start the hazing, I’d like you to know I’m proud of you for taking the initiative and talking to Erin like I said you should.”

 _What makes you think we talked at all?_ She kicked at the ground, hands shoved so deep into her pockets it hunched her posture. It was a wonder Holtz’s blush didn’t illuminate the tunnels.

“Oh, you talked once you pulled your tongue out of places. You wouldn’t be sneaking back here a day later if you hadn’t.”

_Uh-huh, smarty pants. Prove it._

“Does the fact you smell like Erin’s perfume count? Or that your shirt’s on inside out? Nah, none of those things count, so I guess I’ll just assume you two create a form of apologetic Morse Code with your slapping bodies. Please at least tell me she’s not as stuffy in bed as she is-”

 _Abby!_ Holtz whined, stretching out the name. _Why are we even having this—_

“Are you happy?” The question and the fact the shorter woman stopped dead in the middle of the passage and whipped around startled Holtzmann enough she had to backpedal to keep from running into her.

_What?_

“It wasn’t a complex question, Jill. Are you happy? Right now? As you are, are you happy?”

 _Yes,_ she ventured warily only to embolden on the proclamation and straighten her posture. _Yes, I am_.

Abby made a face somewhere between one made when sucking a lemon and relenting in an argument. “Then I’m happy for you. I might give you shit, and you can damn well bet once this gets back to your mother—and you know it will—she’s gonna pop a vein, but I’m happy for you. Both of you…even if I think you can do better. Erin makes you happy, and in a life like ours, it’s good to find some sunshine…literally and physically.”

Shockingly enough, Holtz could tell Abby was sincere, the gesture touching her enough she darted forward and wrapped her Aunt in a tight hug. _Thank you, Abby. I don’t say it enough sometimes. You really are the greatest aunt._

“Flattery will get you everywhere with me,” Abby smiled, returning the hug. “Now come on, we need to think of a convincing lie to tell your mother for now while you come up with a way to break the ice that you’re dating a Topsider.”     

 _You mean flat out telling her about it isn’t the best policy?_ Sarcasm made Holtz swagger a bit, her shoulder bumping against Abby’s when they started off again. They weren’t far from Holtz’s home, a secret door—one Gorin wasn’t aware of—and a small hallway separating the two from the main causeway.

“In this case, honesty isn’t the best policy. For now, at least,” Abby amended. “You’re going to have to tell her eventually.”

_Figured it would be like ripping off a band-aid. Just wince and rip._

“The ripping part is going to come when she rips you a new asshole,’ Abby said, the two stepping into the main tunnel and shouldering open Holtz’s door. “And as much as I understand her shock, I’d rather not—”

Both women staggered to a stop when they entered the living room and ran across a stern-looking Gorin seated at the table sipping her favorite tea. She didn’t look up when they stumbled in, eyes on the book she was methodically pouring over, but that alone spoke volumes.

Seemingly to delight in dragging out the inevitable, Gorin took her time finishing her page and the dregs of her tea before setting her book aside, dusting off imaginary crumbs from her lap, and standing.

“Ah, she returns. Welcome home, Jillian,” she said with a smile that was anything but welcoming. Even Abby winced at the edge in it.

Stuck between a proverbial rock and a hard place, Holtzmann didn’t know what to do. What did one do when caught literally red-handed? Beg for forgiveness? Plead clemency? Plead insanity? Just keep her mouth shut and wait for the explosion that was definitely building under her mother’s forced calm surface?

Gorin looked like a volcano under tremendous pressure. It was difficult to spot without years of practice, but Holtz knew her mother’s idiosyncrasies. A slight twitch here, a persistent wrinkle there, the hard glint of her brown eyes and the rigid set of her shoulders. It was coming, and the worst part was Holtz could feel her kneejerk instinct to explain herself kicking in. She was thirty-two years old, for Christ’s sake! She shouldn’t have to explain anything at this point!

 _Mother I…_ she swallowed hard but pushed forward with a hard breath. _I think you and I should really have a—_

Gorin held up a hand, stunting Holtz’s words as effectively as if she’d shouted her to silence. “An explanation isn’t needed. Believe it or not, I am not as ignorant as many would have you think.” That was directed at Abby who even flinched at the remark.

Hearing the ice in her mother’s tone was enough to drag Holtz’s shoulders into a steep droop despite her best efforts. Gorin stared at her for a few seconds more, driving her point home, before turning sharply and heading for her room. Before she exited the living room, however, she paused at the threshold.

“Since the two of you are obviously sleeping together, I guess it would be prudent for you to invite Erin over for dinner. That is the Topsider way, after all.”

Holtzmann felt numb, mouth hanging ajar. What? No. She hadn’t heard right. Her mother would never…

“Friday would suit us best. Tell Erin I expect her to bring a dish, and we will further discuss this new… _venture_ of yours and the rules I have about Topsiders coming and going from _my_ Underground.”

 _I’m not a child anymore,_ Holtzmann suddenly blurted, unable to take the tension. Gorin froze once again, back to her daughter. Caught between clashing parties, Abby looked understandably nervous. _You keep treating me like I’m a fifteen-year-old sneaking out after curfew, but I’m not. I’m thirty-two. I’ll be thirty-three in four months, and I can’t live like this anymore! I want my own life and my own dreams. I want to_ live _for once rather than exist. Why can’t you understand that? Why can’t you just be happy for me?_

“There are rules to our way of life, Jillian. No matter your age, you cannot and _will not_ break them.”

_What rule is there about turning Topsiders away or not interacting when them?_

“Erin is not a Topsider looking for sanctuary!”

 _No, but I’m an Undergrounder looking for a chance to live! She_ is _my sanctuary!_

“You sleep with a woman once and you think you love her,” Gorin said with a scoff. “That’s not how the world works.”

 _You don’t get to dictate how I fall in love,_ Holtz growled, going so far as bearing her fangs.

“You think yourself so old yet you are still so young in the world’s eyes,” she sighed, turning to face her daughter, equal parts sad and exasperated. “No, I can’t tell you who to love, and I never will. But why her, Jillian? Out of everyone you could have fallen in love with, why did it have to be a Topsider? One with influence and power. One who could bring this entire kingdom down on our heads?”

_I can’t help where my heart goes, Mother. You, out of everyone, should know that. You raised me to be kind and accepting. Maybe that was your greatest mistake._

“My greatest mistake…” Holtz saw something flicker across Gorin’s face, her expression softening with painful consideration like something important was on the tip of her tongue. But it was there and gone like heat lightning. “My greatest mistake was the foolish belief a mother could keep her child safe from the world.” 

 _Maybe that was both of our mistakes,_ Holtz said angrily. _I’m more like my biological mother than we both anticipated._ Pushing past her mother, she missed the defeated look on Gorin’s face, the color well and truly leeching from her skin as she watched her daughter stalk away.

“She didn’t mean that,” Abby said softly, attempting to soften the blow. “She’s just angry.”

“Sometimes honesty is a byproduct of anger,” Gorin sighed, unclenching her hands and watching them shiver. It was going to be a long week, she could already tell.

* * *

 

Erin couldn’t exactly say she was pleased to see Jerry on the other side of her door a day later. He looked put-out being there, lips pouty and eyes averted as she shoved a message from Holtzmann into her hands without so much as an explanation or goodbye. 

            _E-_

_I would like to invite you to dinner Underground this Friday at seven. Bring your beautiful self and a dish of your choosing. Can’t wait to see you. Goliath will be on the lookout._

_P.S. Mother and Abby will be joining us. Not my idea…sorry._

_H-_

Erin had to re-read the last line at least a dozen times to make the words stick, and even then it was hard to grasp. Gorin wanted to see her? Have dinner with her? Be _civil_ with her?

 _This is a trap,_ the cynical part of her mind whispered the immortal words of General Akbar. _Holtz probably didn’t even write the letter._ Which left Erin in quite a tight spot. Go and possibly walk into her death…again or stay and miss an opportunity to see Holtzmann. And what was this about bringing food along with her?

Needless to say, Erin was utterly lost, and her confusion carried her across town to a familiar door in a noisy apartment building near Hell’s Kitchen.

“I need your help.” Erin didn’t wait for the surprised woman to usher her in, sliding past Patty and pacing across her tight living room, hands unable to find a place to land.

“Yeah, it’s good to see you too, unannounced, in the middle of the damn day,” Patty groused, shutting and locking the door. She watched Erin make two more circuits around her sofa before sighing in resignation. “All right, what’s got your panties in a twist this time? Ain’t more of that snooping business, is it? I told you I wasn’t—”

“When someone asks you to meet their parents, what do you do?” Erin realized how vague her question was and quickly amended. “When they want you to come to dinner, what do you do? What do you usually bring? What’s the normal protocol for food and dress?”

Patty blinked, caught off guard by the question. “I’d like to know what the hell you’re talking about, but I have a feeling I’m not going to follow anyway. Wanna recap and tell me what’s happening?”

“I got asked to meet…” Erin faltered, unsure if she wanted to drop names. She was, after all, dating the daughter of a woman linked to the most ruthless mob on the East Coast. “Someone—umm a woman I’ve been seeing…her parents want to meet me for dinner. Well, meet them again, but it’s at their house and over dinner and they want me to bring something, and I don’t necessarily get along with her mother…or aunt for that matter, but I can’t just up and not sho—”

Caught in a deluge of words, Erin didn’t notice she’d shed her coat and scarf—absently rubbing her neck out of nervous habit—drawing attention to something she’d rather keep hidden. Before the DA could scramble to cover up, Patty pointed, mouth hanging open.

“Is that a goddamn _bite mark?_ ” She nabbed Erin’s collar and jerked it down, revealing the bruised remnants of teeth impressions—four of which looked like fang punctures, marring the skin of Erin’s neck. “What the _fuck_ got ahold of you? And please god tell me you got a rabies shot.”

Cheeks suddenly on fire, Erin twisted away and readjusted the collar of her shirt, but the damage was done and her secret was precariously hanging by a thread. “I don’t need a rabies shot for this, thank you,” she muttered.

“Fuck girl, you hit up one of those kinky bars? I know you straight-laced types need a way to unwind but shi—” The wheels spinning in Patty’s head suddenly hit overdrove and her eyes went wide. If her head whipped around any faster she’d suffer whiplash. “Erin…baby, _no_. Tell me you _didn’t_!”

Erin held up a finger but she was trying to forestall the inevitable, Jericho falling around her ears. “Now—now wait a minute, Patty. It’s not—”

“ _It was that werewolf girl, wasn’t it?!_

“Her name is Jillian and—”

“She decided to make you like her, didn’t she?”

“She’s not a werewolf! It was an accident.”

Patty cocked an eyebrow, skepticism plain. “She _accidentally_ bit you?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“I…startled her.” Which wasn’t a total lie…if you could count sudden climax as a startling event. It had certainly taken Erin by surprise in the best kind of way. “She didn’t mean to bite that hard—”

“I don’t understand. What were you doing that put her _that_ close to your neck?”

A beat of silence, quickly followed by another, this one more charged as Patty’s concerned bemusement grew.

“I knew it,” the tall woman almost exploded, clapping loudly. “Oh my god, what the hell are you _doing_? Better yet, _how?_ Or more importantly, _why_?”

Erin buried her face in her hands, wanting to scream. This had been a terrible mistake. “Do I really need to explain the logistics of two women having sex? Has it been that long for you?”

“First off, that was low. And second, is she…you know,” Patty made a circular gesture around her groin and did a little hip thrust. “Normal…down there?”

“For god’s sake, Patty!”

“I’m just asking!” she giggled, putting her hands up. “She doesn’t look exactly human in the face but—”

“Yes, Jillian is completely human,” Erin said crossing her arms and turning in profile. “In all aspects. In every way regardless of what you think.”

“Well ain’t that a fucking miracle,” Patty cackled. “Man, you white girls have the weirdest taste in partners.” Erin gave Patty a cutting look the P.I. didn’t notice. “Wait, what night did she say she wants you over?”

“Why?”

“Because of the fucking full moon, boo! Gotta track the lunar cycle now that you have that damn bite on your neck.” Feigning concern, Patty put a hand against Erin’s forehead like she was feeling for a fever, but the DA batted her away with a scowl. “You feeling more hairy than normal? Got a craving for seafood? If I scratch you behind the ear will your foot bounce?”

“You know what?” Erin huffed, snatching up her coat. “This was a stupid idea. Forget I came here.”

“Erin!” Patty called around a laugh, moving to stop the DA from stalking out of her apartment. “Come on, man, I’m just giving you shit.”

“You’re not helping, I hope you know that,” Erin deadpanned, unamused. Patty, on the other hand, couldn’t stop giggling.

“Girl, you just came clean about fucking a mutant. You gotta let me get the shock out of my system, okay?”

“Please don’t refer to her as a mutant.”

“All right, all right, you win. I’m happy for you, boo.” Patty lightly punched Erin on the shoulder. “Don’t know what the hell you two have on common but shit, if it works, far be it from me to say otherwise. So Jillian invited you to dinner with…her mom? That’s a little weird.”

“Is it?” Erin turned, genuinely concerned. She had to be careful of the conversational steps taken from here. Patty might have known about the Underground being Holtzmann’s home, but she hadn’t mentioned anything about the people living there. Her inquiries about Gorin were never tied with the Underground, Erin keeping the two purposely separate.

“Well, yeah. Homegirl has a family?”

Erin, once again, gave Patty a flat look. “She wasn’t grown in a lab.”

“How the hell am I supposed to know any of this first-hand?”

“She has a mother and an aunt. They live with her Underground. Her mother…doesn’t like me very much. Doesn’t like me at all, really. We didn’t start off on a good foot, she and I.”

“Is she like Jillian?”

“You mean does she look like her? No. Jill was adopted. Her mother found her in a dumpster when she was a baby.”

“No shit?” Patty puffed out her cheeks, taken aback. “God, people are awful. So you’re basically having dinner with your girlfriend’s parents who don’t necessarily approve of who their baby-girl is dragging home into the…sewers. That sounded better in my head.”

“Ain’t that the fucking truth. Still have a bump on my nose from when you swung at me.”

“You scared me!” Erin said in her defense. “I thought you were with the men who kidnapped me!”

“Be that as it may, I see your point. So…dinner. They cooking or you?”

“I’m getting the impression it’s the both of us bringing something to the table. Literally.”

“So we gotta wow them. Okay, well, it’s a damn good thing you came to me cause Patty knows were all the good eating joints are in this city!”

“I was just thinking pizza?” Erin shrugged helplessly. Cuisine wasn’t really her forte. With her work schedule, it was hard to have a sit-down dinner every night. Cheap and dirty usually did the trick unless it was a special occasion, and Erin’s cooking skills ended with boiling pasta for Macaroni.

“Seriously? You can’t chuck a stick anywhere in Manhattan without hitting a pizza joint. You wanna make a good first impression you gotta think outside to box.”

“How ‘outside the box’?” Erin hedged.

“How you think they’d feel about BBQ?”

“In New York? We have that here?”

It was Patty’s turn to guffaw. “This is America’s melting pot, you uncultured heathen! God, we need to get you out more. Come on, I’m going to blow your mind with culture and cuisine all in one day.”

“But I don’t have to get anything until Friday!” Erin called as Patty headed for the door.

“Good! We’ve got time to sample, now come on!”

Two days—and possibly one of the most eye-opening treks around New York and parts of Jersey—later Erin was waddling her way towards the Underground entrance near her home, four enormous sacks and one brown paper bag in each hand. Patty had delivered as promised, showing her some of the best eateries around and forever changing where she’d be ordering food from and dining at in the very near future.

Picking her way to the basement entrance and slipping through the false wall, Erin waded into the inky darkness with only minimal hesitation. Holtz said Goliath would be waiting for her but that prospect was terror-inducing. Her last encounter with the Ungerground guardian made it plain there was something not quite right about the man…if he even was a man. Then again, she had more pressing things to worry about.

It didn’t take long for Erin to spot the first stray feline wandering towards her flashlight beam, all eyeshine and slinky grace. Another joined and another until Erin spotted the mask in the distance and held her breath, literally, as Goliath emerged like the wraith he was.

“Good evening,” Erin swallowed, setting her sacks down. The giant didn’t respond, green eyes tracking her from behind the smooth white of his mask. “I know you’re probably not happy to see me. Nothing I say will make that better, but I—uh—I brought something for you? Well, for you and our…pets. Here.”

She held out the paper bag like the olive branch it was. Goliath didn’t move for an inconceivably long time, staring across the darkness at the woman in his presence. Finally, after Erin’s shoulders began to burn from holding her arm extended, Goliath reached out and took the sack, slowly upending the contents into his massive hands. Out rolled a dozen cat toys, catnip, and a few bags of assorted treats. As if sensing the new goodies, the cats circling his feet began to cry and rub at their master.

“Umm…I also brought you some food, too. I don’t know if you eat meat, so I got you a BBQ plater and also a veggie burger.” Erin walked the sack forward, hopeful her peace offering was enough to get her safely to Holtzmann.

No thanks were offered other than grunt and a nod, but it was enough. Goliath turned and led Erin into the Underground the same way they’d descended weeks ago, cats in tow. This time, however, he didn’t escort her through the central corridor but rather through the back entrance via a hidden lift.

Approaching Holtzmann’s front door was probably the hardest thing Erin had done to date. It even trumped her first solo jury trial. Well…maybe not _that_. At least she wasn’t hyperventilating with her head between her knees five minutes before the trial began after vomiting earlier that morning. This was a cake-walk by comparison right?

No, absolutely not a cake-walk. Nope.

Before she could raise her fist and knock as loudly as her heart was knocking against her ribs, the door swung open and Abby filled the doorway. Erin couldn’t keep her instinctive disappointment from showing.

“Punctual to a fault, I see.”

“Well, it is my bread and butter,” Erin tried to smile, showing more teeth than necessary. “Nice to see you again, Abby.”

“I’d say the same thing but,” she tapped the side of her head, a sarcastic smile crinkling the scared skin around her milky eyes. “And stop pouting. Jillian’s inside getting everything set up.”

“May I come in?” She raised her sack-filled arms to indicate she’d held up her end of the deal and thus wanted access.

“That depends,” Abby sniffed, leaning against the door frame, clearly not in any hurry. “I’d ask flat out what your intentions are with my niece, but since the two of you have already moved to third base, I should just skip formalities and go straight to threatening you.”

Erin sighed, letting her posture slip. These sacks were growing heavier by the minute. “Is this really the place to have a conversation like this? I know you and Gorin are highly protective of Jill, but honestly Abby, I have no intentions of hurting—”

“Look, the fact of the matter is,” Abby said, cutting Erin off, “I saw this coming a while ago, believe it or not. And as much as I’m apprehensive about the two of you being a couple, I’m also happy for the both of you. Jill’s got a good head on her shoulders when it’s not shoved inside a machine, and she’s a good judge of character. Just…be careful with her, okay?”

The tenderness in Abby’s request softened some of Erin’s apprehension. “I give you my word. I only want what’s best for her too.”

“Which means shit to me. Show rather than tell, Miss Gilbert. Now get in here before Jill claws me to death.”            

Erin’s confusion over the comment evaporated when Abby stepped aside revealing a relieved looking Holtzmann behind her, all smiles and vibrating eagerness.

 _I’m so glad you came!_ Holtz said, swooping in for a hug that purposely shoved Abby back a step. Erin tried to reciprocate but her arms were tied down—literally—and offered an awkward half-hug and a kiss on the cheek instead. _Here, let me take those. God that smells wonderful._

Abby led the way, Holtz no more than a few steps behind, using her foot to kick the door closed. The dwelling looked no different than when Erin last visited, warmth and familiar comfort already seeping into her bones until she turned the corner and ran into a glacier with all the finesse of the Titanic.

Gorin stood beside a table set for four rather than three, looking placidly grim as usual. Hands folded in front of her, she reminded Erin of a strict schoolmarm, complete with half-moon spectacles perched on the tip of her nose.

“Erin,” Gorin said, slightly inclining her head.

“Rebecca,” Erin returned cordially, using her first name as a reminder she wasn’t without her own set of claws. Holtz seemed surprised by the familiarity but said nothing, eagerly unpacking the sacks while keeping the two women in her periphery. Just in case.

“Thank you for joining us this evening.”

“Thank you for having me. I didn’t exactly know what to bring, so the meal comes courtesy of a friend of mine. I hope you like BBQ.” Erin jumped when Abby dropped a something heavy in the tiny kitchen around the corner, her head popping out like a jack-in-the-box.

“You brought BBQ?” Then to Holtz she asked. “She brought BBQ?”

 _Smells like it,_ Holtz said, sniffing a box before opening it to reveal a full rack of ribs cooked in a spicy-sweet smelling dry rub.

“Oh my sweet, sweet Missippi Jesus,” Abby faux-sobbed, approaching one of the Styrofoam containers and holding it to her chest with tearful reverence, petting it. “It’s been so long since I last had a good brisket.”

“Now who’s being the dramatic one?” Gorin snorted, though her look of approval wasn’t missed by Erin as she placed glasses in front of mismatched plates.

“Thirty years, Rebecca. I’ve not had BBQ in thirty years! Don’t judge me, I’m going to be over here in the corner having a pork-infused religious experience.”

Despite the lingering tension—was Holtz purposely avoiding her mother’s gaze for some reason?—Erin found herself laughing. This was awkward and weird, but since when did her life make a bit of sense? Sliding into the seat offered to her, she settled in with this strange family that had come into her life like a whirlwind, warmly glowing when Holtz’s hand found the top of her thigh under the table, the two sharing a fond smile. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“Abigale!” Gorin snapped, making Erin jump. “Put those containers back! We’re eating as a family.”

“No!” Abby shouted, scooping up three Styrofoam boxes and attempting, poorly, to scuttle away towards her desired corner. “These are mine. You’ll pry them out of my cold, dead hands, Rebecca! I did my waiting! Thirty years in the Underground! I want my BBQ!”

Erin giggled behind her hands, attempting to keep her mirth under wraps, but Holtzmann dissolved into helpless laughter as she watched her mother and aunt fight over containers of food.

 _Okay_ , Erin thought watching the two, _maybe it wouldn’t be bad…just strange._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww happy moments with the happy family...but tension grows (dun dun!) I apologize for my slow updates. If you've been reading Magi you all know my personal life has been a bit on the nastily unpredictable side, so I'm just now getting my feet back under me, so to speak. Like I said above, we're getting towards the end of this story and I'm both excited and nervous about its sequel.....
> 
> Anyway, please let me know what you thought. Kudos are all well and good, but spoken word goes farther with me.


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, guys. We've got about four, maybe five more chapters of this story to go. I'm not ready to draw this to a close, but we have to move into "Topsider". Hold on to your butts cause things are going to drop into freefall very quickly.

So began a strange but wonderfully welcome change to Erin’s routine as winter settled into its usual rhythms. With the first dinner a shockingly pleasant success, Erin began making frequent treks Underground to dine with Holtzmann and family. Sometimes Gorin cooked, relying on Erin to bring desert—Patty again coming to the rescue, still delighted in showing the DA around some of her favorite shops, “Because what ex-cop doesn’t know where to get something sweet to eat?”. Sometimes Erin brought dinner, pleased that most of her and Patty’s choices were successful hits.

At first, it was a weekend only event—Erin stealing away during a Friday or Saturday night after running home from work—but quickly evolved into multiple nights a week because why not? What honestly was she doing with her life Topside other than working? Aside from Patty and Phillip, who did she have? It was like a curtain being drawn aside, showing Erin what she’d been missing all these years. A community. A family. A place to call her own. And try as she might to fight it, a primal part of herself craved the warm familiarity after having lived isolated for most of her adult life.

More and more, the Underground began to feel like a home, providing levels of intimacy not often found in the bustle of millions Topside. That is to say, there weren’t hiccups along the way, but Holtzmann was never far, eager and excited to fully introduce Erin to her world without the worry of discovery.

Gorin was still glacially slow in warming towards Erin. So much so it appeared little had changed between them other than Gorin’s strangled willingness to allow a Topsider into her home. But common ground was hacked out of the weeds, each visit drawing both women further out of their self-protective crouches like reluctant turtles poking their heads out.

Abby didn’t seem to mind at all, usually the first next to Holtzmann to fall into conversation with Erin, the two striking up a friendship over their shared love for good food, trashy movies—ones Abby remembered on account her selective-blindness prevented her from seeing screens—classic 70’s music, and a surprising love for similar standup comedians. Abby was as sharp as a razor and twice as witty, her quips serving to break the ice on more than on occasion.

But at the end of it all, Erin was truly there to see one person and one person only, the highlight of her day culminating in spending stolen moments with the woman who had stolen her heart.

With each Underground trek Erin and Holtzmann grew closer as both lovers and partners. Without the yoke of anxiety or a timer hanging around their necks they were able to explore freely and openly with one another, taking their time learning the ins and outs of intimacy while learning how to love in the quiet moments between passionate meetings. They revisited favorite places in the Underground now as a couple, the energy and atmosphere lighter but leagues more electric.

Hours were spent in the Chamber of Echoes, listening to Broadways beneath warm blankets, hands never far from one another, fingertips almost always touching. They swam naked in the heated cisterns near Holtzmann’s lab—hanging oil lamps and candles lending a flickering glow that turned the water into molten pools of orange and red—and danced by the light of a million ruby crystals in the Fire Cavern. They loved openly and often, sometimes falling into Holtzmann’s bed early on and staying there for hours, slowly exploring the length and breadth of lovemaking, carefully tuning one another until their bodies sang.

Hourly excursions quickly turned into overnight visits, Erin sometimes staying multiple nights in the Underground asleep beside her lover. Puzzling out her work routine took a bit of effort—how was she supposed to come and go from the Underground undetected and still make it to work on time showered and ready for the day?—but they made it work. 

It was easily the happiest time of Erin’s life, providing moments she would look back on and remember fondly, a smile never far from her lips. If this was love, she never wanted to give it up.  

 

* * *

 

November marched on, dragging along behind it the onset of three back-to-back holidays like cans tied to the back of a bicycle tire. Corporate consumers made it seem like after Halloween there was only the inevitable countdown to Christmas, and in truth, Thanksgiving was altogether forgotten save for the Macy’s Day parade which Erin avoided like the plague every year.

Growing up in New York, she’d attended a few times. What kid didn’t want to see the parade at least once? But eventually, it lost its novelty, turning into an annoyance as thousands more tourists descended upon the city, making any sort of commute a living hell.

This year, however, Erin had an idea she neglected to share with Gorin and Abby, stealing Holtzmann away in the early morning so they could stake out a spot right outside Central Park to watch the parade slip by. Ensconced in a heavy coat with a hood and wrapped in a thick scarf—it was frigidly biting anyway—Holtz looked every part the eager parade viewer, no one giving her a passing glance. It’s wasn’t near the same anonymity she’d gained during Halloween, but it was just enough to provide her with a rare treat. One that lit her up like the Christmas trees to come.

Seated beside Erin on the curb—their hips touching and fingers threaded together—she watched in wrapped attention as float after float coasted by, waving animatedly at characters and gawking at the massive balloons held in place by dozens of attendants. Erin didn’t really have eyes for the festivities, instead watching her partner, happy she could share something so simple as an annual holiday parade.

But as the days pressed forward into the garishly overexuberant onset of the Western world’s shopping extravaganza something dark and wicked slithered between the glittering décor and childhood jingles. Something Erin saw coming months ago but did her best to avoid until finally running out of rope.

She first became aware of this creeping predator shortly after the first of December. She’d been walking back to the office after a bistro lunch with Phillip when an errant gust of bitter wind caught her just right, bringing with it the scent of ice, the sound of carols, and flash-pan memories of hands dragging her into darkness. It was enough of a jarring mental zap Erin spun on the spot, heart in her throat, senses on overload.

No, she wasn’t in danger. She knew that. It was broad daylight. She was in the middle of a sidewalk. People were passing her without a glance, no fear or malice to them, but still, her chest tightened. Still, her stomach revolted. Still, she sought the first available alcove and ducked inside to catch her breath.

That had been the start, and like dominos, it only needed a small nudge to set a dark spiral into motion. Erin tried not to notice the days sliding by, drawing her closer to a red-letter date looming on her mental calendar like a poised guillotine.

One year. In a scant few weeks, it was going to be one full year since her abduction and attempted murder.

During the day it wasn’t so bad. Erin could almost convince herself she was walking in someone else’s shoes, taking in the city sights like there wasn’t quicksand around her ankles. But at night? Sleep gave her no peace, the memory waking fresh in her mind the minute her eyes closed. The smell of the van. The bite of the knife. The helplessness she’d felt lying at the bottom of the embankment, snow melting between her bloody fingers, breath coming in wheezing gasps.

That’s how Erin woke most mornings, even in the Underground. Wheezing and clearing tears from her face. Sometimes her night terrors woke only her and she’d slide out of bed while Holtzmann slept and sit in the living room, knees drawn up to her chest, eye wide and searching in the darkness.

Gorin found her there on more than on occasion, the older woman a notoriously light sleeper and prone to nightly wanderings. The two didn’t exchange many words, Gorin nodding in Erin’s general direction while on her way to the kitchen to make tea she shared with the Topsider. The gesture was more congenial than Erin had experienced in the past.

“Have you considered speaking with a professional Topside about these nightly episodes?” That was all Gorin asked, and she only asked once, Erin vehemently shaking her head at the idea of seeing a therapist.

“Shrinks and I never get along.”

“I can respect that.” The subject was not brought up again, though Gorin kept careful watch. The approaching date hadn’t escaped her notice and neither had Erin’s quiet standoffishness, but seeing the woman like this twisted something deep in her chest. Something that hadn’t been there a year ago. It was a hard pill to swallow that she was beginning to not only stand the woman but care for her as well.

Sometimes, Erin’s night terrors woke Holtzmann before Erin could flee to the living room, and for a while she was able to write off the incident as a nightmare brought on by work.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized, catching her labored breathing and trying to hide the shaking of her hands. “It was just a…court related nightmare. Jury trials always stress me out. Please don’t worry. I’m fine.” Which was the furthest from the truth but the last thing Erin wanted was for Holtzmann to start worrying. Not when things had begun to go so right between them. Not when things were finally settling.

Holtz could almost taste the lie, but she didn’t push, knowing how stubborn Erin could get when she felt backed into a corner. She did, however, begin noticing changes overtake her partner’s demeanor from that point forward, Erin’s lack of sleep and the coil of stress showing through her carefully crafted mask. Even Patty caught on, recognizing Erin’s symptoms for what they were, but the DA would hear none of it, keeping her head down, working through the gnawing fear like it was a stubborn cold and not the onset of something darker.

A week and a half before Christmas the taught wires holding Erin aloft in her wavering sense of false security finally torqued too far.

It had been a normal night. They’d spent time in Holtzmann’s lab—Erin helping where she could with an added set of hands—before they retired to bed. Sleep actually came easy that night, her day at the office a successful one, the case she’d been working on finally moving to trial. Phillip congratulated her with a drink and promise of a grander gesture later. Holtz danced with her, all grins and proud kisses. Dinner had been pleasant. What came after even more so. Nothing was amiss…until Erin shut her eyes and woke in the van.

Vivid didn’t do the description justice. Visceral was a better word. This time, she relived the memory first hand, stroke for stroke, blow for blow. The abduction. The tazering. The beating but this time it was amplified. Erin could feel bones breaking under boot-falls, skin splitting, laughter booming like thunder, the smell of vomit and blood circulating like a miasma around her.

But the blows never stopped.

The laughter continued.

Faces like grinning sharks blurred in a tilt-a-whirl spin as the silver knife plunged into her time and time again, hacking her in half, the fingers around her throat squeezing and squeezing and _squeezing—_

Erin didn’t just wake screaming. She flew out of bed, eyes open but reality going unseen, caught in a waking nightmare she couldn’t escape. Holtzmann launched out of bed at Erin’s shriek, nearly hitting the floor when her feet tangled in the sheets. Her sleep-addled brain said ‘ _run’_ while her instincts screamed ‘ _attack’_ freezing her in place until her eyes found and focused on Erin backed against the far wall, crying and shaking, hands up to ward off the blows she must still be feeling.   

 _Oh my god, Erin…what’s wrong? What’s happening?_ Holtz attempted to inch closer but only served to push the terrified woman back, eyes so wild they rimmed blue irises like half-moons.

“Get away from me!” Erin shouted, ducking into a half-crouch like an animal in a corner. _“Get away from me!”_ She spun away from something Holtz couldn’t see and tripped into a bookcase, threatening to bring it down as the shelves gave way with a papery clatter. Holtzmann moved to catch her before she fell to the floor, but a strong hand on her shoulder stopped her.

“Jillian, wait.”

Holtzmann whipped around, surprised to find Gorin in the doorway flanked by Abby, both women looking worried. Her initial reaction was fear—that somehow her mother was going to resend Erin’s access to the Underground—but Gorin’s expression was one of concern more than irritation.

_Mother, please, I don’t know what’s happen—_

“She’s having a psychotic episode manifesting in visual hallucinations,” the older woman explained clinically, taking a step into the room.

Holtzmann gaped, struggling to understand. _How do you know that? She was asleep up until a few seconds ago._

“Because I’ve seen them first hand.” Gorin’s eyes didn’t have to shift towards Abby for the blind woman to know who she was talking about. The implications, however, were lost on Holtzmann who continued to watch her partner curl further into herself, breathing so fast it was a wonder there was any air left in the room.

 _I don’t know what any of this means,_ Holtz pleaded, itching to go to Erin but fearing she’d cause more harm than good.

“It’s trauma, honey,” Abby supplied sadly, coming to stand next to her niece. “People who experience awful things sometimes relive the experience. Post-Traumatic Stress.”

_What do we do?_

“We walk her out of it.”

“Erin,” Gorin called in a soft voice, one she’d never used on her until now, taking care not to approach the panicked woman but gaining her attention by sliding into her field of vision. “Where are you? Are you in the van, or are you in my daughter’s room? What do you see around you?”

“Please don’t hurt me,” she pleaded, tucked against the bookshelf so compactly she could probably fit inside a suitcase.

“Erin,” Gorin spoke a little louder but still maintained her gentility. “Tell me where you are.”

“I don’t know,” she hissed after a long pause, each word punctuated by a hiccup.

“Look around and tell me what you see.” When that didn’t elicit a response, Gorin nudged her daughter forward, nodding for her to try.

 _Erin?_ she called, dropping to her knees a safe distance away and leaning in, speaking like she would with a frightened child. _You’re in my room, honey. You’re in the Underground. Do you remember that? You’re safe. I swear you’re safe. Please come back to me. I’m right here._

Her breathing began to slow, coming in fits and starts but no longer rapid fire inhalations. Holtzmann looked back at her mother who nodded encouragingly. “If she can ground herself she’ll come out of this faster. Ask her to use her senses.”

 _You’re doing so good, honey,_ Holtz smiled, inching that much closer. _Can you look around and tell me what you see?_

Erin violently shook her head so hard it bounced off the bookshelf, making her cry out.

 _Okay, okay, not that. How about smell? Tell me what you smell_.

“Candles.” A pause. “Leather. Fabric softener…chicken broth.”

  _Excellent. What about feel? Tell me what you feel._

“Something…hard. Cold. Scared. I don’t know where I am.” Erin was starting to retreat again, slipping back under.

_No, no, no, Erin look at me, please? You know me. It’s Jillian. You’re in my room. We met a year ago. I found you the night you were attacked. I carried you down here. Mother and I put you back together. I read Harry Potter to you to help you sleep. I still do. Remember? We just finished the fifth book. You thought the room of prophecy sounded like a stupid idea and cried when Sirius died. You took me dancing on top of the Empire State building on Halloween. You showed me the world. Please, I’m right here. Just turn and look._

Holtzmann didn’t approach any further but extended her hand—almost able to touch Erin—and waited. It felt like it took an eternity for her to crack open her eyes and look over her shoulder at the familiar voice calling to her. Glassy eyes focusing, she squinted at Holtz, hair a frizzy blonde halo around her head, blue eyes like beacons, drawing her in.

“Jill?”

 _I’m right here,_ Holtz smiled, hand still extended. She didn’t need to say more. Planted fully back in reality, Erin sucked in a single watery breath and reached across the divide for her partner, Holtz pulling her to her chest and holding Erin there as the world crumbled.

She cried and cried hard, grabbing onto Holtz like she was the only thing keeping her from flying into the void attempting to swallow her. With little effort, Holtzmann lifted Erin into a bridal hold and carried her back to bed where the pain could be better soothed, Gorin and Abby taking their leave now that the worst of the storm was over.

“I remember nights like those,” Abby said quietly as they left the room, mind in the past.

“So do I. You’ve come a long way since then.”

“It’s been a long time, but I had a good teacher and an even better friend,” Abby smiled, pleased when Gorin smiled back. The expression was fleeting though, sadness creeping into the creases around her eyes.

Standing in the doorway with a heavy heart, she watched Jillian form a protective curl around Erin and it donned on her just how much had changed in such a small amount of time. It was as if she was catching up to the present, her brain finally registering the years that had slipped by. Once again, Jillian was growing up before her eyes, time playing in phantom echoes around the room.

Jillian’s first steps.

Her first words.

Her first book.

Her first nightmare.

Her first crush.

Her first invention.

Now she lay curled around her first love. Jillian’s life was beginning, and try as Gorin might, she would have to let go. It killed her to think about how quickly her daughter had grown and what she knew she’d miss. If only she had more time…what more would she change?

“Where has the time gone, Abby? When did so much change?”

“When we blinked,” Abby shrugged, gently pulling Gorin away and walking with her back to her room.

“I’m not ready for her to be so grown up. It was yesterday she was just learning how to sign with us.”

“No parent is ready to see their child grown up, Rebecca, so you’re not alone in that feeling. But you can’t stop the march of time. You and I both know that.”

“All too clearly. I’m old, Abby,” Gorin said down at her hands, stroking her knobby knuckles.

“Not that old.”

“I _am_ old,” Gorin persisted, raising her eyes only to find a challenge in Abby’s, the set of her body almost bristling.

“You _aren’t_ that old, Rebecca. You still have time. You still have Jill. You still have all of us. No matter what you keep saying, you’re not that old,” she declared before adding with a low hiss, “because I’m not ready to lose another parent.”

“I won’t be around forever,” the older woman said gently, trying to soften the blow of mortal inevitability. Yes, someday she would die and her disease would likely be the cause. There was no getting around that, and Gorin knew her days were numbered.  

“But you’re not gone yet. Good night, Rebecca. I’ll see you in the morning.” Abby turned sharply and left, Gorin knowing she’d pushed too far and touched on something too raw.   

Turning away before the moisture in her eyes had a chance to fall, Gorin changed her mind about sleep and made her way towards the kitchen instead. Her stumble halfway down the hall was slight, a stutter-step, but the dizziness wasn’t. Hand against the wall to help keep her flagging balance, she paused to breathe, tension in her chest making her frown. The episode passed quickly but it left a residue of lingering weakness, one no amount of tea, pills, or holistic medication could chase away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember what I said about freefall? Consider this the last track link on the roller coaster. 
> 
> Please let me know what you think. Kudos are dandy but they only go so far. I'd like to hear from my readers. And please feel free to come scream at me on tumblr. 
> 
> Not-so-secret-nerd.tumblr.com


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wound up splitting this chapter in half for plot reasons. Put together, you lose a lot of the intended impact, so that means we are still four chapters from the end of this story.

“ _Is this a goddamn bottle of vintage 1894 Scotch?!_ ”

Erin had to lean out of Patty’s vocal range, ears twinging from her excited volume. A finger wiggling in her ear did little to dampen the ringing. “Merry Christmas?”

Patty sputtered, almost afraid to hold the dark glass bottle, hand pressed against the side of her head in shock. “Girl, where the _hell_ did you get this? Do you know how much something like this _costs_?”

“It’s usually not customary to discuss the prices of _gifts_ , Patty,” Erin said flatly, giving her friend a look from her side of the sofa, arms resting overtop her bent knees. Outside her windows snow drifted from a slate-gray sky, adding to the accumulation the city already received from its last winter storm hammering.

“I know how much you make, honey,” Patty said matter-of-factly. “And I know you can’t afford something like this on the fly, and I highly doubt you’ve been saving your pennies.”

“What?” Erin snorted. “I can’t spoil my friends a little?” One look from the PI told her she wasn’t buying it. “Fine. If it makes you feel any better, it’s a combined gift from Jill and me. Let’s just say there are some interesting treasures around her home. And no, before you ask,” Erin said, holding up a finger to stop Patty’s next couple of words dead in their tracks, “it did not fall off the back of a truck. _Merry Christmas, Patricia_.”

Patty was quiet for a time, looking between Erin and the bottle now carefully held in both hands. “Is it bad I’m torn between indulging myself and putting this damn thing in a lockbox in the likely event I’ll need to sell it someday to pay for an emergency you’re probably going to cause me?”

“Ha-ha, very funny,” Erin rolled her eyes. “I say indulge. There’s more where that came from.”

“ _More_? How much _more_?”

“Enough you don’t need to worry about drinking one expensive bottle of Scotch. Now, are you going to crack that thing open or not?” To emphasize her point, Erin wiggled her empty glass in Patty’s direction, a smile creeping into her face.

“You don’t have to tell me twice, shit. Merry Christmas to us.”

With practiced ease, the PI popped the cork and let the liquor breathe for a few minutes before pouring a generous amount into hers and Erin’s glasses. The combined near orgasmic sighs when the amber liquid hit their tongues sounded more like purring than noises of content.

“Oh my god, I’ve died and crossed over. I think I might have just seen Jesus.”

“Don’t leave me yet,” Erin chuckled, letting the smooth burn ease her back into the cushions. “I’ve just started to really like you.”

“Feeling’s mutual.”

Words weren’t necessary at this point, the two falling into comfortable silence while they drank and refilled their glasses, each sip smoother than the last. Erin let her head flop back against the back of the couch, watching errant snowflakes float down and gather in the corners of her frosted windows. Never in her wildest dreams could she have imagined spending the day before Christmas Eve with a Private Investigator she’d befriended after her kidnapping a year ago. She’d thought it before and would continue to mull over how upside down her life had become.

“So…how you been doing?”

Erin knew what Patty was alluding to without needing added context and sucked her teeth clean of liquor, the warmth nesting in her stomach leaving her too quickly for her liking. A part of her expected this conversation to happen, but she’d hoped for a little more time. Patty was sharp as a tack, and even without knowing what happened in the Underground, she could tell something had changed within Erin.

“I’m…managing.”

A flimsy half-truth. One she regretted telling immediately. There was no use lying at this point because one, Erin was tired of false-facing around the few friends she had. If she couldn’t be honest with them they had no right to be in her life. And two, Patty could see through a lie, claiming it was a “superpower” of hers.

“You wanna try that answer again?”

“Yes. The truth is, I don’t know, Patty,” Erin admitted, closing her eyes and wincing against the throb building at the base of her skull as she wrestled her anxiety. It wasn’t as bad as the night in the Underground but it was still there, squatting like a toad at the back of her mind. “I’ve only _seen_ cases like this before, so I know what this is, but I can’t…I don’t know how to make it stop.”

Like before, Erin felt the words coming and was powerless to stop them. “It’s like the fear inside me has a mind of its own and it’s eating me alive. I can’t sleep. I can barely eat. I feel like I’m walking on broken glass all the time. Every little sound makes me jump. Even being with Jill has become strained because I’m _scared_. I don’t want to come back to my apartment at the end of the day. I want to stay and hide and never come out because up here things are so violent and chaotic and—and—and I feel like I’m losing my mind. I just want the spinning to stop.”

It shocked Erin feeling a strong arm loop around her shoulders and squeeze hard, drawing her out of the spiral she’d thrown herself into. Without looking up, she relaxed into the embrace, letting Patty rub her shoulder, the soothing sensation bring her back down.

“Can I ask you a serious question?” Patty said sometime later when the two separated. Erin nodded, watching her friend sitting on the next cushion over, elbows on her knees and a drink still in her hand. “Have you considered speaking to a therapist about this?”

There it was again, that hated word. Erin felt herself recoiling and Patty senses it too, flicking a look in her direction.

“I know how you feel about them, boo. I was the same way, but I’m not talking about some snobbish old shrink who makes you recline on a leather chaise and spill all your dirty secrets while he writes in a notepad. Talking about an honest-to-god head-doc.”

Erin shook her head.

“The one I see is really good with helping people overcome post-traumatic stress due to trauma. She works closely with current and ex-Officers. I’d like to get the two of you in touch.”

“You…” Erin blinked, surprised. “You see a therapist?”

“Twice a week,” Patty nodded, moving her wrist so the Scotch in her glass began to swirl. “Sometimes three times if it’s a bad week. She’s a good woman. Bullheaded as a motherfucker, but she listens. Got me out of some really nasty places head-wise, if you catch my meaning.”

“You started going after…” Erin hesitated, not wanting to push boundaries. Patty was quiet for such a long time she feared she’d overstepped and was preparing a hasty apology when her friend started talking after a deep breath in.

“The day I got shot, I didn’t think it was real. It took me a long time to come to terms with what happened, and at first, I thought I was handling it pretty well. Aside from what the Force did to me, I healed. I kept busy. Went to physical therapy. Got walking again. I laughed and drank and joked and made jokes about what happened. But I wasn’t okay. I wasn’t even _close_ to okay.

“You don’t think about what trauma like that does to the human brain. An injury like that and the fear that comes with it…you can look at a body and see what’s wrong. X-Ray it if you can’t, but you can’t do anything with the conscious mind. You can’t protect it, and you can’t see the wounds when they happen. You can only treat the symptoms, but even then it’s an uphill battle.

“That day, I was just reacting. He was a kid as scared as I was. I came around a corner too fast. He had an itchy trigger finger. Wrong place wrong time, but you don’t compute it at first. All your brain sees are flashes of images, and it reacts with split-second decisions. You’re not thinking, you’re moving, but your eyes are cameras recording everything for you to replay later in the quiet moments.”

Patty paused to take a pull from her glass, hardly feeling the liquor burn. Beside her, Erin sat at rigid attention, fearing if she moved she’d shatter the moment.

“Facing death does things to you,” Patty said down at her glass. “It changes you. First time I had a PTSD attack was about two months after I got out of the hospital. Stupidest shit ever. A car backfired. I hit the deck. After almost fifteen years on the Force, I flinched like a goddamn greenhorn, and it didn’t get better after that.

“The nightmares were sometimes the worst part. I didn’t kill the kid who shot me, but I killed the two behind him. You see it, over and over and over again when you close your eyes. You remember what it feels like to snuff out a life. I could see the whites in their eyes. I still can. Four years later and the smell of GSR and blood comes back to me fresh as the day I smelled it. 

“At the start of my eventual decline, I refused help. Even if I was an ex-cop, I was still a cop at heart. My father was one and my grandfather. It’s a family thing, and I was raised to do shit for myself. No one’s gonna give me a free ride for two hard reasons: my skin color and my sex. So I thought, ‘fuck, why the hell would I start looking for help now? Plenty of people get shot and don’t have mental breakdowns. Why am I different?’

“So I started self-medicating.” Mouth pressed into a hard line, Patty raised the glass in her hand without looking at Erin and shook it, elaborating what kind of medication she’d chosen. “It worked for a while, but you build up a tolerance, and the last thing I wanted to be was an alcoholic. Became one anyway in the process of trying to forget. That first year was hell. I honestly don’t know how I lived through it.  

“But you know what the most sobering fucking thing was? When my father found me half-dead in my apartment after a week-long bender of whiskey and sleeping pills. I don’t remember anything that happened that week or how I got to that point, but I remember him breaking down my door with my uncle and getting me into the shower. I remember the bite of the cold water and crying for what felt like hours while he held me against him under the showerhead, sobering up, puking my guts out. I remember passing out and sleeping for a while, and when I came to he was there at the end of my bed.

“We talked for hours, and I cried some more. That’s when I learned about his own ordeal with PTSD and how he handled it. How it tore him and my mother up until he finally got out of his own way and got help. That’s what he told me. ‘Baby-girl, it’s time to get out of your own way and fix the broken parts you can’t see.’”

Patty sat back with a  heavy sigh, the toll of her story evident in her slouch. “I started going to therapy after that. I won’t lie and say it’s been smooth sailing. Shit’s hard to get over. Harder still to swallow, but the brain is a muscle you gotta work like the rest of you. If you just let it wither, it’s gonna kill you. So I’m going to tell you the same thing my father told me. Time to get out of your own way.”

 At a loss for what to say after something like that, Erin reached out and gently touched Patty’s upper arm, smile warm when the woman turned to look at her. “Thank you for sharing that with me.”

“It wasn’t for shits and giggles, baby,” Patty said, finally shifting so she was facing Erin. “I meant what I said. Things aren’t going to get better unless you take the steps in making yourself better.”

“I know. I’m not going to lie and say speaking to a therapist doesn’t scare the crap out of me, but if you trust her I know I can by proxy. Just…let’s wait until after the new year, okay? The holidays are already crazy.”

“True that,” Patty nodded. Looking down at her glass, she scrunched her face in distaste. “Yah know, after a heavy dump like that, I’m gonna need something more than damn good Scotch.”

“Well, it’s not a hundred years old, but I’ve got some ice cream in the fridge.”

“Fucking golden. Stay put and pick a movie. I’ll grab it.”

While Patty moved off to raid Erin’s freezer the DA walked to her movie cabinet, aware the shaking in her hands hadn’t improved much even with the Scotch in her system. She hadn’t been stretching the truth when she said the idea of therapy made her bones quake. Catching her breath and making a fast selection, Erin schooled herself, slipping on an all too familiar mask and returning to the sofa where another healthy glass of Scotch waited.

Settling in beside Patty, Erin couldn’t help but mentally leaf through her next few days while the movie played, on edge but trying not to show it. Tomorrow her friend would drive to Jersey to be with her family, and Erin would go Underground until after the first of the year—a small vacation courtesy of Philip. The reprieve from work and the chance to be with Jillian dampened some of the storm howling in Erin but not enough to divert her attention of how quickly the sun was going down.

All too soon night would fall and the nightmares would crawl from their holes in her subconscious. Unless, of course, she didn’t sleep. Which was more often the case, as of late. With the movie done and the good liquor gone along with half a gallon of ice cream, Patty took her leave, taking the addition of her warmth and security with her.

Alone again, Erin shivered against a chill she knew only she could feel.

Unwilling to be a hapless victim to her fears, she perched herself in fire escape window, watching the city slip from twilight, to night, to early morning without once dipping her head despite exhaustion clinging to her like a drunken lover. Once the sun began to lighten the sky, Erin chased the fleeting blue-black shadows into the Underground, the blanket of concrete and steel wrapping her in soothing familiarity.

A year ago she couldn’t fathom how anyone would find solace and happiness living underground. Now, however, she believed she possessed a better understanding as to why so many “normal” individuals inhabited the tunnels.

True to form, Goliath met Erin near the entrance, having heard her incoming taps. She greeted him with a Merry Christmas and a sack full of goodies for his cats along with a set of blanks masks and paints she’d procured from a former client. Shock was a strange expression to see conveyed in Goliath’s posture, but his rumble of appreciation didn’t go unnoticed. Erin beamed back at him, feeling lighter the farther down they trekked.

The main corridor looked different as Erin walked it’s now familiar length, a touch of the holiday season peeking through. Garland here, lights there, maybe a tiny Charlie Brown Christmas Tree glimpsed behind a tent flap. It wasn’t much and it certainly wasn’t the garish display shown Topside. This had an intimate, old-time feel to it, like those participating actually appreciated the meaning of the holiday rather than just the aesthetic.

Erin entered Holtzmann’s home after knocking once, calling out as she pushed through the heavy door. The sensation never got old. It was like coming home.

“You’re here awfully early,” Abby called from the kitchen, the smell of cooking filling Erin’s nostrils as she waded further in.

“Didn’t see a point in waiting since I don’t have work,” Erin deflected easily, gently setting her backpack near the chair she’d more or less claimed as her own.

“Uh-huh, you sleep okay?”

The question as too pointed for Erin’s liking. “More of the usual. Something smells good. What are you cooking so early?”

“It better. I only make apple cobbler once a year.”

Erin cocked her head to one side when she came around the corner to find Abby situated in front of the tiny counter with a bowl and spoon in hand. “I didn’t know you could bake.”

“I can also pole dance too if the mood strikes me. Funny how we all have our own hidden talents,” Abby said, throwing a cheeky smile over her shoulder. “Jill’s in the lab getting the turkeys roasting. Please go make sure she’s not started a grease fire like she did last year…and the year before that.”

“You guys always make special dinners for the holidays?” Erin asked, attempting to slide in and steal an apple wedge but barely escaped getting her knuckles smacked with a spatula.

“Woman, I’ve been known to take off fingers,” Abby warned, pointing her utensil at like a sword. “Steal at your own peril.”

Erin stuck her tongue out and jogged off to find her girlfriend—god did that word fill her with a wonderful sensation of carbonation. Sure enough, Holtzmann was hunched in front of a homemade rotisserie situated on her workbench, two massive birds slowly rotating in front of glowing red coils.

“Abby wanted me to make sure you didn’t set anything on fire.”  

Holtzmann jumped and turned, elation replacing hard concentration. _You came early!_

“Wanted to get a start on my holiday,” Erin shrugged, easily melding into Holtz’s arms. “Those are some nice sized birds you got there. Catch them yourself?”

_Oh, you know it. Nothing but the finest sewer foul for us._

“That’s nasty.”

_Does it make it worse if I say I slathered them in butter like an albino going to the beach?_

“I think you mean sunscreen.”

_Same difference._

“It’s really not.” Their kiss tender and slow, both of them enjoying the unhurried pace of knowing they had all the time in the world to be together.

 _Now that you’re here,_ Holtz grinned once breaking away. _You can help us get ready._

“You really think we’re going to eat two extra-large turkeys? Is Goliath joining us for dinner?” Erin asked, throwing a glance at the rotating birds over Holtz’s shoulder. When her eyes alighted back on her partner she leaned back, the mischief shining there making her immediately nervous. “What?”

_No one told you, did they?_

“I can’t decide if that question was meant to be genuine or ominous,” Erin squinted.

_It could go either way, but you pretty much just answered my question. Which means the mantel has fallen on me to educate! Come! To my secret lair! We must gather your festive disguise._

“Okay, now I’m officially afraid.”

Taking Erin by the hand, Holtz took her back to her room and immediately dove into a drawer while the DA perched on the end of her bed, watching curiously. After a moment Holtz straightened and turned, careful to keep whatever was in her hands behind her back.

 _You have to close your eyes. It’s tradition._ Erin gave her partner a flat look that easily read ‘sure like I’m going to fall for that again’. _I swear it’s nothing bad. Please?_

 “Fine,” she deflated, unable to hide a bemused half-smile. Holtzmann’s beaming face was the last thing Erin saw as she closed her eyes.

_Stand for me, please._

Erin stood.

_Okay, now lift up your arms._

“Why?”

_Just trust me._

Complying with minor duress, Erin did as told and lifted her arms, feeling something wooly and soft brush past her fingertips before the sensation swallowed her. For a second she thought Holtzmann was shoving a bag over her head until that same head popped out of a hole and her arms were brought back down to her sides. She felt…warm?

_Okay, open…you’re eyes….now._

Erin did and immediately burst into laughter when she came face-to-face with her reflection and the hideous Christmas sweater she’d been shoved into. “Jill, what on earth am I wearing?”

_Surprise! It’s your traditional Feast Sweater!_

“Feast Sweater?” Erin parroted back, picking at the gaudy neon-green and red fabric that hung to her knees. The sleeves were fire-engine red and peppered with blue and green pompoms. A massive dark green Christmas tree adorned the front like a medieval crest, complete with tiny plastic ornaments and actual working lights sew into the absurdly soft fabric. It was laughably zany, and the fact Holtzmann was wearing one as equally absurd made the moment even better.

 _Yeah, you gotta look your best for dinner tonight! Chicks dig chicks in fashionably awful Christmas sweaters._ She struck a pose, the nose of her cartoonish Rodolph blinking like a heartbeat.

“Something special going on I should know about?” Erin asked, quirking an eyebrow. The sweater was long in the arms—it could probably fit someone twice her size—so she amused herself by playing with the extra length.

_The annual Underground feast. Everyone will be there. It’s the talk of the town, and you, my dear, must look your best._

“We’re having dinner with the whole Underground? All at once?”

 _Complete with roast beast, my good Grinch,_ Holtz smiled mischievously, laughing when Erin wrinkled her nose at the name. _It’s the one time of year Mother wants everyone to feel like a cohesive family. Or at the very least a community. Everyone brings something to the table._

“So like Thanksgiving but during Christmas?”

 _Sure, I guess. We just want everyone to feel welcomed during the holidays,_ Holtz said, gathering a pile of small parchment-wrapped bundles stacked near her personal workbench. A nod in the direction of the kitchen prompted Erin to follow. _The families down here didn’t come to us with much, if anything. The Helpers do what they can, but at the end of the day, Undergrounders are, by and large, homeless. Some chose to become that way. Some didn’t. So it’s been Mother’s tradition since before I can remember to bring everyone together one day a year to share a meal as a community so people don’t feel isolated. She figured Christmas Eve was a better date because it had more meaning to more people._

Erin found herself at a loss for words. It was hard to fathom the implacable, unshakable, stone-faced Rebecca Gorin being anything but a solid brick wall 365. The fact there was an inkling of a nurturing undercurrent in the woman was beyond shocking, but then again she’d raised Holtzmann. The conflicting personalities made Erin’s head spin.

_It’s still really early, but I could use a helper._

“Of course! Lead and I will follow.”

 _You know that’s a dangerous game with me,_ Holtzmann winked, pleased when the tips of Erin’s ears began to turn pink.

“Good thing games are my strong suit. Lead the way, Miss Holtzmann.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I'm already half-way done with the next chapter expect it early next week sometime, but for now, here we go. All the chess pieces are in place. In four strokes we'll hit checkmate.
> 
> As always, please let me know what you thought. Kudos are wonderful but reviews have such a bigger impact.


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously hoping this gets a better response than the last chapter because I'm honestly working myself to the bone getting these updates to you all. Between work and side projects, I'm running low on inspiration and even lower on drive. So yeah, hope this piques more interest.

Erin had indeed come early to the Underground. Not many were up and milling around, leaving her and Holtzmann free to play their part of “Santa” and leave wrapped gifts—mostly trinkets and useful bobbles Holtz made throughout the year—at the doors and flaps and hanging ornamentation wherever there was a bare spot. Together they made a circuit of the corridor like mischievous, subterranean elves, Erin feeling younger than she had in ages, laughing and smiling as she fell into the spirit of the festivities.

Closer to noon the two returned to Holtzmann’s lab to check on the turkeys—which were roasting happily—and help Abby and Gorin ready the rest of the meal. Seated at the kitchen table on potato peeling duty, Erin watched the three fuss over one another, their antics and idiosyncrasies already well learned. She smiled when Holtz successfully stole a handful of onion crisps from Abby’s stockpile and tried not to notice Gorin’s struggle to lift and settle heavy pots, her hands never completely quake-free.

Holidays in Erin’s home had never been a bright affair. When still alive, her mother did her best to make things cheerier, but after her death, it became just another day of the week. After years of ignoring festivities or viewing them merely as a spectator, Erin found it both fascinating and comforting being in the middle of a family who seemed to have a firmer grasp of the holiday than most Topside.    

At a quarter to five, Holtzmann helped Erin drag the kitchen table into the main corridor, marveling how this particular stretch of tunnel now resembled a Viking mead hall. Rather than one continuous table, however, seating was broken into dozens of smaller, mismatching tables dragged from homes and set together in a long line. Families gathered around each little island, the whole of the Underground turning up for the feast. There had to be at least a hundred people, including children, all from different walks of life, all with different stories to tell.

Some looked to have come from wealth and retained that air even if their clothing was a bit threadbare and their shoes no longer shinned. Some looked as though their entire being began and ended on the street, the shrewdness of their eyes and quickness of their hands hinting at hard lives and even harder means of survival. Some appeared almost as normal as Erin, smiles warm and genuine despite a persistent sadness, appearance bland and unassuming. 

A mother caught Erin’s eye, a toddler bounding on her hip. The little one sputtered and sucked its fingers, grinning wide when it spotted Erin. The dark-haired woman was young, possibly her age, and offered a shy smile when they locked eyes—grin widening when Holtzmann slid over and wiggled her fingers near the toddler’s face, earning bubbling giggles.

“Quite a sight, isn’t it?” Abby asked, coming to stand next to Erin’s elbow after placing her casserole in its proper place. Judging by how she tracked the room, she wasn’t having trouble seeing the gathered crowd.

“I never imagined there were so many.”

“More than meets the eye down here.”

“Where did they all come from?”

“Everywhere. Some came to us because they couldn’t hide Topside from whatever shit got them in trouble in the first place. Other came because they literally had no place to go. Some, like you, wandered in and never left. We’re a hodgepodge.”

Erin puffed out her cheeks. “That’s putting it lightly.”

“Hey, New York is still a melting pot. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to see a woman about a turkey.”

“I’ve got it. You all have done enough today.”

“Ain’t going to hear me complaining,” Abby said, sliding into a chair directly left of the head of the table.

Erin found Gorin where she expected her to be, but rather than heading over and taking the cooked bird waiting on the counter she lingered by her chair, fingers picking at the worn upholstery. In her periphery, she could see her backpack and chewed her lip uncertainly.

“I can see you standing there, and I don’t need you hovering,” she said between slow, methodical chops.

“I wasn’t trying to hover,” Erin deflected without taking offense to the brusque tone. “I was just trying to choose the right words.”

Gorin paused, glancing over her shoulder with vague curiosity. “What do you need, Miss Gilbert?”

“If it’s alright with you, I wanted to give you your gift early.”

“It can wait until tomorrow.”

“Please?” Erin asked, gently putting out a hand to stop Gorin from turning away. And as perturbed as the matron of the Underground appeared, she relented with a sigh, waving Erin to proceed. Without a word, Erin retrieved a manila envelope from her pack, walking it over to Gorin and presenting it to her.

“I believe you and I know what this is,” she said, watching the woman carefully remove a single sheet of damning white paper. As she read, Erin braced. 

“Where did you get this?” Gorin whispered, eyes wide behind her glasses.

“Unimportant.”

“ _Of course it’s important_ ,” she snapped, voice like a whip crack. “If this ever—” Before Gorin could begin what was gearing up to be quite the tirade, Erin took the sheet from her, pulled a lighter from her pocket and put flame to paper. It was such a shocking move whatever the older woman was about to say withered as the orange flames began to climb the page.

“I know what this is and so do you,” Erin said, not breaking eye contact. Before the flames could brush her fingers she placed the paper in the sink where is continued to blacken and char, smoke curling around the ceiling. “What _you_ need to know is that this is the only copy in existence. My PI friend pulled strings to get the original. I know you and I haven’t seen eye-to-eye on a lot of things and there’s still elements of distrust between us, but I protect what’s mine. Even if that means protecting them from the things I have. Merry Christmas, Rebecca.”

Erin didn’t expect a response. She hadn’t been aiming for one when she planned this weeks ago, talking Patty into handing over the envelope she hadn’t yet destroyed. But when Gorin forewent formality and stepped into an awkward but heartfelt hug Erin felt the breath she’d been inadvertently holding slip from her lungs.

“Thank you,” was all the older women said, squeezing tight once before letting go and slipping back into her reserved role. Grinning until her face hurt, Erin retrieved the turkey and followed Gorin into the corridor where yet more people—Helpers and Undergrounders—had gathered, all eager to begin.

Standing at the head of the train of tables, Gorin raised a hand for silence which instantly fell, all eyes on her. “Good evening. Thank you for coming. I won’t keep you long as I know we’re starving. I’m so happy to see all of you tonight and to welcome new faces to the crowd,” she said in the direction of the young mother and a handful of infants fussing further down.

“As you all know, once a year, we take a moment to remember that, despite our differences and personal strife, we are a family. Growing up, I never understood the belief that family didn’t have to be blood, but over the years, I have learned how wrong I was. Family is the community that supports you. It might be a mother and a father. It might be a friend or a lover.” Erin felt Gorin’s gaze settle on her for a split-second, expression unreadable. “It can even be a stranger. Whatever the label, here in the Underground, we are a family. So to my family, I say, Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and bon appetite.”

“That was beautiful. I think I need to wipe my eye with a turkey leg,” Abby teased when Gorin sat back down, already helping herself to a slice of ham courtesy of a family to her left.

“Hush. I thought it appropriate,” Gorin said, rolling her eyes at the same time she unrolled her napkin.

“Getting sentimental in your old age.”

“At least one of us is aging well.”

Abby gasped in mock disbelief—hand against her chest. Across the table, Holtzmann hid her laughter behind a mouth full of food, Erin looking on fondly at the three of them.

The meal was lovely if not unconventional, conversations spoken in a broad stroke of topics. Erin mostly listened, happy to be beside Holtzmann and watching her in her element. The people here loved her, especially the children, her attention skipping from one Undergrounder to the next. A few were curious as to who Erin was but the majority didn’t need to be told. They’d either seen them together enough to guess what was happening or didn’t think it their business to know.

Gorin visited each table in turn, slowly making her way down the line to sit and speak with every family. Erin learned from Holtzmann she did this every year, especially with new additions. Concerns would be heard. Grievances, if any, taken up. Larger housing would be negotiated if the family had expanded, and new arrivals—Erin spied Lucas at the table, looking awkward but otherwise healthy—were briefed on protocol and Underground procedure. 

They ate until the tables were bare, every family receiving their fair share and then some. As a rule, no one left hungry and any leftovers were piecemealed out to those who needed the food more.

Erin helped with the cleanup until Holtzmann nabbed her wrist with a playful smile and pulled her away for a “feast” of a different kind that took them in a breathless circuit around Holtz’s lab and ended in her room. Backed against the headboard of her bed, Holtz marveled up at the woman straddling her hips, bare from the waist down, breathing fast enough it was a wonder there was any air left in the room.  

Holtzmann prided herself on being a fast learner and this was no exception. Erin pulled at her fingers as they disappear to the third knuckle, eyes fluttering closed as she sucked in around the pressuring filling her, senses on overload. Head falling forward against Holtz’s collar a short time later, she muffled her cries as best she could before collapsing atop her partner, warm, spent, and blessedly content.

 _So that was my gift to you. What did you get me?_ Holtz asked with a cheeky smile, fingers drawing lazy patterns against Erin’s bare thighs.

“Who said I got you anything?” Erin teased, swinging off and retrieving her discarded underwear, making sure to drag them up her legs with tempting slowness. She loved these little games between them. Seeing how far they could push the other.

_True. I could say you’re the best gift a girl could ask for, but I don’t want to rot any more of my teeth._

“I can recommend a good dentist. Excellent oral examinations.” Erin’s grin was wide and predatory, the sway of her hips and the roll of her shoulders making Holtzmann shiver.

_You had me at oral._

Perched at the end of the bed, Erin crawled the rest of the way, seating herself between her partner’s legs. Hands braced on either side of Holtzmann’s head, she stared down at her, brown hair forming a curtain around them. “I think I know a game we could—”

The sharp crack of breaking glass followed by the thud of something hitting the floor had Erin and Holtz snapping upright, foreplay entirely forgotten, but it was the panicked, “Oh my god!” from Abby that drove them scrambling from the room.

Holtzmann was faster, ripping around the corner into the living room only for her feet to suddenly stick to the floor, the world dimming to the singularity of her mother lying unconscious surrounded by broken glass.

_Mother?!_

“Jill, _Jill_ , _the glass_ ,” Abby warned with a trembling raised hand, already on her knees. Holtzmann ignored her completely, sliding next to her mother, hands moving everywhere but not daring to touch until they cupped her face, calling to her gently.

“What happened?” Erin gasped, heart leaping into her neck. She couldn’t decide what to do, frozen in place like a deer in the headlights.

“I don’t know. One second we were talking and the next she just hit the floor. Stay here. I’m going to get Taft.” Abby bolted from the room, nearly taking down a bookcase when she bounced off of it.

Erin felt like she was moving through molasses while the world turned at light speed. Holtzmann had already scooped her mother up—her slight frame like a ragdoll in her daughter’s arms— and was running for Rebecca’s bedroom, leaving the DA in limbo. Shifting, Erin both heard and felt glass crunch under her shoes and looked down, slow to grasp the amount of blood left to stain the carpets. How had the night gone from simple pleasures and tender moments to terror in one savage stroke?

Snapping out of it, Erin ran after Holtzmann, stopping in the kitchen to gather an armload of clean towels and throwing them into the sink, wetting them. Holtz already had Gorin on the bed when Erin arrived—towel bundle in her arms—doing her level best to gently move strands of hair from the blood on her mother’s face, picking off chunks of glass as she went.

 _She was fine at dinner,_ Holtz hiccupped, not even attempting a brave face. Tears cut lines down her cheeks. _Everything was fine. She’s been getting stronger. What’s happening?_

Erin swallowed hard around the lump in her throat, the truth screaming to be spoken aloud. Her internal turmoil was cut short when the body on the bed stirred, consciousness returning like a flickering bulb.   

“Jillian?” Gorin slurred in confusion when her eyes cracked lazily open. “Why…what happ—”

 _Shh, it’s okay. You’re okay,_ Holtz smiled with a watery sniff, trying and failing to keep her fear locked down. _Erin and I have you. You’re safe._

“You fell, Rebecca. Jillian carried you back into your room,” Erin helped fill in when the woman’s hazy gaze slid her way. Hating herself for what came next and the can of worms it would indefinitely open, Erin moved a little closer, now shoulder to shoulder with Holtzmann. “Rebecca, have you taken your medication today?”

No answer came, Gorin’s eyes rolling shut once more. Erin felt Holtzmann’s gaze on her like a firebrand and tried not to flinch, knowing she was essentially lying to her partner by keeping silent about what she knew. However, Erin was saved from making a hard decision by the sound of feet fast approaching.

“Out. Everyone, out,” Taft barked when he all but burst into the room, Latex gloves already pulled over his hands. Holtzmann tried to protest, going so far as to bare her teeth at the man, but the doctor would not be swayed. “I’m not asking, Jillian. Your mother is very sick, and I need to examine her.”

_Do it with me here! I’m tired of the lies! What’s happening to her?_

“It’s not my place to disclose a patient's private affairs.”

_She’s my mother! I have a right to know!_

“That’s not my decision to make.”

“Jill, please,” Abby soothed, daring to take her niece by the upper arm and pull her away. “Let him work. She’s going to be fine, I swear. Just let him—”

 _This is the last time you lie to my face,_ Holtzmann snarled, going nose to nose with her aunt, an unspoken threat hanging thick in the air. Whirling away, she stormed off, leaving like a fast-moving squall.

“She’s not been doing well has she?” Erin asked quietly after the door clicked close, leaving them stranded in the hall.

“There are good days and bad,” Abby sighed, the absence of adrenaline leaving her feeling like a deflated balloon. “But her bad days are getting more frequent. I thought…I thought today was a good one, but she pushed herself. She’s always pushing herself.”

“You two have to tell Jill about this. Abby,” Erin moved around in front of the woman, arms crossed tightly over her chest, “she’s suffering. You can’t keep pushing her away. Not if Rebecca is—”

“I know, Erin,” Abby snapped. “I know, alright? But I’m stuck between a fucking rock and a hard place, between respecting my mentor’s wishes and openly lying to my niece.”

“I’m sorry. I know this is hard for you—”

“You really don’t. Just…give me a minute, okay?” she said, inhaling deeply and exhaling just as hard. “I’m still trying to process.”

“Take your time. I’m going to go find out where Jill went.”

“To her lab, where else?”

Erin didn’t answer, pointing herself down the hall and letting her feet guide the way while her brain kicked into overdrive. Abby was right. Holtzmann was in her lab, pacing its length like an animal in a cage. Erin watched her make a circuit, chest clenching each time her partner rubbed salt from her cheeks or jerked around a hard breath. If she saw Erin she made no move to acknowledge her presence.

“She’s going to be okay, Jill,” Erin said, braving the tempest still raging around Holtzmann.

 _You know what’s happening to her, don’t you?_ This wasn’t phrased as a question.

“I know she’s sick.”

 _That’s not what I asked._ Blue eyes sought and found hers from behind a mop of disheveled blond curls. _You know what she’s sick with._

Here it was, the can of worms Erin hadn’t wanted to open. “I do,” she admitted to her feet, unable to stand the hurt she was causing.

_And like the rest, you won’t tell me._

“Your mother asked me not to, and I have to respect her wishes.”

  _Why?_

Erin looked up at this but wasn’t met with a look of hurt. Accusation burned behind Holtzmann’s eyes, turning her posture rigid and unapproachable. “Because people are entitled to their own bodily autonomy and medical privacy.”

 _So that gives you a license to lie to me?_ Holtzmann was starting to shake, quivering like a pot under pressure.

“That’s not how this works. This wasn’t my decision to make, Jill. I hate that your mother won’t tell you what’s going on. I hate that I’ve been put under a gag order, but Rebecca reserves the right to share this with you when she’s ready. She’s scared, honey—”

_And I’m not? All I want is someone to be straight with me for once!_

“I made a promise, Jill—”

 _Fuck your promises!_ Holtz suddenly roared, finally hitting her breaking point.

Erin yelped, the voice in her head booming to the point she felt a stabbing pain behind her eyes, but the sound of the toolbox exploding against the far wall had her ducking for cover. Hunched in half in the middle of the lab, Holtzmann looked more beast than man, teeth bared and hands curled into claws.

 _You don’t get to keep things from me! Not you or Taft or Abby. She’s my mother! She raised me! I deserve to know!_ Holtz shouted, punctuating every word by beating a fist against her chest. _Tell. Me. What’s. Happening!_

“I’m sorry,” Erin whispered, a cold spike of fear raising the hairs on the back of her neck when Holtzmann turned to face her like a puma sliding out of the shadows. “I can’t.”

 _Can’t or won’t?_ The accompanying snarl showed the length of her teeth.

“Please don’t make me—”

_Then get out._

“Jill, please, I—”

 _Get out!_ she roared again, coiled so tightly it was a wonder gravity didn’t increase around her body. Erin backed out of the lab, heart lassoed by guilt and pulled into the bowels of her stomach. She returned to Abby, shaking her head forlornly at the unspoken question on the shorter woman’s face.

“She’ll come around.”

“I’m not so sure, Abby.”

Time meant nothing and everything at the same absurd time. Leaving Abby posted outside Gorin’s door, Erin retreated to the living room, doing her best to get the glass and blood out of the carpet. It wasn’t until she heard the squeak of door hinges and muttered voices that she stopped, dusting her pants off and stretching her sore back when Taft came into the room.

“How is she?”

“Resting,” came the clipped reply. Despite Erin’s time Underground she hadn’t made friends with everyone, the physician remaining coolly clinical whenever around her.

“The medication isn’t working, is it?”

Taft paused, giving Erin a reading look. “Care to elaborate further?”

“I know Rebecca has Huntington’s,” Erin said quietly, glancing over his should to make sure no one was listening. “And that she’s taking anti-chorea medication.”

“She told you this?”

“No, I figured it out when Jillian was almost caught by the police Topside smuggling stolen medication down here,” Erin hissed, nerves still raw. “And still none of you will tell her what’s happening to her mother.”

“Rebecca wishes to tell her daughter on her own terms,” Taft bristled. “I hope you have enough respect for the woman who saved you to grant her that wish.”

“I am sacrificing my relationship with her daughter in order to keep her secret safe if that answers your question,” Erin bit out between clenched teeth. “Now, is the medicine working or not?”

“No,” Taft relented, slouching like a clockwork doll winding down. “Anti-chorea medication helps combat muscular tremors brought about by the onset of the disease. It is my professional opinion that Rebecca suffered an episode of syncope caused by minor arrhythmia. Put plainly, her heart stuttered caused her to lose consciousness. During the fall, she suffered a minor abrasion to her right temple as well as cuts from the glass. All superficial but this was a close call.”

“Oh god,” Erin breathed, hand over her mouth. “Is this…an isolated event? Something random?”

“I’m afraid not. Huntington’s is known to cause heart-related issues. Unfortunately, I don’t foresee any improvements in health from this point on. It is the natural progression of this disease.”

“Surely there are medications that can help?”

“I’m sure there are, but without access—”

“What do you need?” Erin stepped forward, taking the man by the arm.

“I’m not sure I spoke plainly enough—”

“ _What do you need_? I can get it for you.”

Taft cocked his head to the side, brow furrowed. “You would need a medical license and access to a pharmacy, Miss Gilbert. Both of which I know you do not have.”

“I have one of those things.” Darting over to her backpack, Erin retrieved a pen and scrap of paper, placing both in Taft’s hands. “Write down what you need. Whatever it is, I don’t care.”

“Miss Gilbert,” Taft sighed, letting his arms drop. “Your efforts are commendable if not noble, but a District Attorney does not have access to these types of medications. I’m sorry. Even if you could pull strings, it’s impossible.”

“You said it before, these people saved my life. I owe it to Rebecca and Jillian to do whatever I can for the both of them. Please, Jeremiah, don’t make me ask again.”

Hearing his name spoken aloud after thirty years—nevertheless by a Topsider— shook the man to his core. “You know my—”

“I know _everything_ and yet here I am,” Erin implored, sweeping her arm. “These people are my family. I have the power and the means to help them. Please let me help them.”

Rattled, Taft bent and scrawled a short list of prescriptions Gorin would need to both speed her recovery and prolong the onset of the disease. Erin tucked the list into her wallet, determined to seek out Lucas once the worst of the night had blown over. He owed her one last favor, after all.

Taft took his leave, happy to be away from Erin who didn’t notice his backward glances as she made for Rebecca’s room. Reaching the door, she stopped next to Abby—venturing no further—the sound of quiet sniffling telling her Holtzmann had beaten her there.  

 _Please,_ she heard Holtz beg, tucking into her mother, tears wetting her shirt and the bandages beneath. She clung tightly, Gorin clinging back, fearing if she let go they’d both fly into the void opening up around them. _Please, tell me what’s wrong. Don’t shut me out. Let me take care of you._

“Hush, Jillian. Hush. I’m here,” Gorin soothed in a broken voice, stroking her daughter’s head to quiet her. “I’m not going anywhere.”

_I’m scared you won’t be here if I close my eyes. Don’t leave me, please. I can’t…_

Despite her best efforts, Erin felt hot tears sting her eyes and failed to blink them away. Biting her lower lip kept it from trembling, but it was a temporary balm as a savage ache wormed into her chest. 

Turning away from the sight, Abby pressed her back against the wall and hung her head, silvery tears cutting long lines down her face. Unbidden, Erin set a hand against the shorter woman’s shoulder and was shocked when Abby grabbed onto her. Whether it was for grounding or support went unspoken, but the connection spoke volumes because they both knew what this meant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're now three chapters from the end of the story. Writing what comes next is going to be one hell of a mountain to tackle. All I can say is get some tissues ready and brace.
> 
> I'm not even going to beg for comments on this one. It's not worked in the past and I'm tired of trying, so you do you.


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this chapter took so long. It's literally fought me tooth and nail through every scene. I'm not sure if this is just me not wanting to finish this story or maybe writer's block, but I apologize for taking so long. That being said, you all read for this? Brace. We're definitely falling now.

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” Lucas said, stepping around Erin and setting down the crate in his arms. She found him on Helper duty at the Main Square, unloading supplies brought from Topside, untouched by the turmoil unfolding within the walls of the Underground city. He’d agreed to speak to her privately but was apparently regretting that decision.

“I do, in fact,” Erin countered, angling herself so he couldn’t look away from her. “I know exactly what I’m asking, but I’m asking all the same.”

“Lady, you of all people know why your little errand is impossible, seeing as you were the one who sprung me the last time I got caught lifting pills.”

“I know about your run-in with the mob, yes but—”

“How the fuck can you say that so casually?” Lucas demanded, aghast. “Like running into a North Commander wasn’t enough to scare the shit out of me for the rest of my foreseeably short future! I stole from the wrong people, Miss Gilbert. I fucked up. It’s apparently what I do best these days, so forgive me if I want to keep my body free of bullet holes!”

Erin could feel her temples starting to pound. “I wouldn’t ask if this wasn’t an emergency!”

“Even if it was, I’m not your man.”

“It’s for Gorin,” she hurriedly explained, running out of rope.

“My answer is still no. Look, I get it,” he interrupted, halting Erin’s next round of scathing words. “I really do, and I wish I could do more, but the fact of the matter is, if I get caught or if the pharmacy even suspects I’m sniffing around, I’m going to get popped. I pissed off the Norths by stealing that last batch of meds. So I’m sorry, I really am, but I’m not your guy.”

“Lucas,” Erin hissed, snagging his arm and drawing him closer so her voice wouldn’t carry. “Gorin is _dying_. Do you understand? She’s dying. Last night her heart nearly stopped. She passed out and fell into a table. Now she barely has the strength to get out of bed. If you can’t do this for her do it for Holtzmann who I thought was your friend. This is her mother we’re talking about, not some stranger off the street!”

Shock was a weak way to describe the expression flashing across Lucas’ face. “Jesus, are you serious?”

“Would I lie about this? The medicine you stole for her isn’t working. Nothing is. She needs something stronger and you’re the only person in the Underground who knows where to get what I need.” From her jean pocket, Erin pulled out Taft’s list. “Please take this. Please help us.”

Erin knew what she was asking. She knew the risks. She knew the price and she was willing to pay it. Like it or not, Lucas was a pawn in a tightrope game of chess. She would get him to play one way or another because as it stood there were no options.

Lucas looked between Erin and the paper, decision weighing heavily on his tall stature. He had the haggard look of a man caught between a rock and a hard place, and if Erin wasn’t so desperate she might have felt pity. As it stood, she had none to spare.

“I can’t,” he deflated, eyes skimming his shoes before he turned his back. “I’m sorry. I can’t take that risk.”

“You owe me,” Erin rumbled darkly, standing her ground.

“I owe a lot of people, but look where I am. Living Underground like a rat.”

“But you are living,” Erin stepped forward, determination lending her voice a razor edge. “You are alive because _Gorin_ took you in and hid you like she did for countless others over the years. The people down here need her, so you not only owe me, you owe the woman who saved your life. And what, pray tell, would happen if that same woman died because you were a coward? How willing do you think Holtz or Abby would be to keep you down here? To keep you safe?”

Playing dirty. That’s what this had devolved into. Erin could feel the slime settling over her skin as she slowly sank into the realms of blackmail and coercion. Then again, what was leverage other than legal blackmail? As a DA, she often trod that fine line, floating on a cloud of moral ambiguity. Lifting the list once more, Erin had little trouble remaining stoned face in the wake of Lucas’ distress, playing her part well.

“After this, you owe me nothing, and I’ll never call on you again. You have my word.”

Baited and snared all in one go. Lucas had no moves to make, and a gamble against Erin was too high. He was a rat caught in a trap, unable to chew off his own leg. Scowling deep enough his eyebrows almost touched, Lucas snatched the list from her fingers and shoved it into his pocket.

“One. Last. Time,” he snarled between gritted teeth, whirling away before the echo of his voice had time to fade. Erin watched him go, heart in her neck despite her cold stature. She’d burned bridges before but never like this. There would be no mending fences, but such was the cost of a life in the Underground.

Two days later, there still wasn’t word from Lucas, but that was expected. Pharmacies would experience reduced hours during the holiday season. While this provided an excellent opportunity for theft it also brought about unforeseen challenges.

Returning from the hot baths—she’d needed a chance to exhale and mentally place her chess pieces—Erin deemed it time to speak with Gorin about further developments with her medical condition. She forewent looking for her girlfriend beforehand—in two days Holtzmann still hadn’t look at her let alone exchange pleasantries—instead aiming for Gorin’s room, hoping she’d steal a private moment with the Underground Matron. A wish someone in the universe appeared to hear.

Gorin was awake and sitting up, a book in her hands and glasses perched on the end of her nose, for once following Taft’s instructions—though Erin suspected it was due more to lack of strength than stubbornness. She didn’t look up immediately when Erin silhouetted the doorway, finishing her page before setting her reading aside.

“Good evening, Erin.”

“Is it evening?” she asked, squinting at the clock on the wall. Since Gorin’s fall, time had become an irrelevant concept, hours and days bleeding together like ink mixing with spilled water. Erin may have slept for a total of five hours in the time she’d been Underground. “I haven’t gotten used to telling time down here.”

“That’s the beauty of a clock, my dear. You can usually tell what time of day it is by the set of the hands.”

Despite her bone-aching exhaustion, Erin’s lips drew up at the edges. Rebecca had to be feeling better if she was up for a bit of good-natured razzing. “How are you feeling?”

“All things considered, tired.” The admission took some of the poise from Gorin’s posture, making her semi-human once more. “And sore. You can come in rather than lurking like a vampire. I won’t bite.”

Erin waffled in the doorway, sparing a nervous glance down the hall. “Is Jillian around?”

“No. I sent her with Abby to run an errand. I don’t expect them back for another hour.”

“Good,” she nodded to herself, hating the fact distance from Holtzmann made her relax some. “Good. I wanted to speak with you privately if you’re feeling up to it?”

“Seeing as I’m stuck in this bed for the foreseeable future…” Gorin motioned to an open chair beside her, turning so Erin knew she had her attention.

“I wanted to let you know, I spoke with Lucas the other day,” Erin began, taking a seat on the edge of the chair’s cushion. This bit of new appeared surprising.

“Oh? And how is our newest resident coping?” The breath Erin blew out said it all. “Something tells me your conversation was not of the cordial variety.”

Erin surmised honesty was the best policy at this point. The two of them were far enough along in their tensile-thin relationship lies would only irritate. “That’s safe to assume, yes. Lucas…isn’t very happy with me. I send him Topside to smuggle another batch of medicine down here for you. _Stronger_ medicine.”

“I see,” Gorin said stiffly, hands folded neatly atop her lap. “So you took it upon yourself to give an order that wasn’t within your rank to give.”

“We’re not in the military, Rebecca,” Erin frowned. “And you were in no state to order anything.”

“How is it you came across such a comprehensive list of stronger medication? I’m also curious how you got Lucas to agree to such a venture given how delicate his situation Topside has become.”

“I’ve been an attorney for over a decade,” Erin scoffed in a blasé tone, trying not to let her feelings of self-repulsion show. “Coercion isn’t beyond my skillset.”

“And if he’s caught?”

“He’ll likely serve the full term of his original sentence.”

“What if the Norths get to him first?” Gorin’s stare was positively electric. Erin felt the slow reversal of their roles, whatever power she’d come into the room with draining through her fingers.

“I find that unlike—”

“I will answer that for you. They will kill him and it will be on your head. This isn’t a chess game, Erin. You can’t move people around like pawns expecting there to be no collateral damage. If they catch Lucas they will kill him. His blood will be on your hands. Are you prepared to face that? Did you even think it through when making your move? Or was your concern for me too blinding?”

“I did what I had to for the people I’ve come to care for,” Erin answered defensively. “If that means exhausting resources at my disposal, I will do it. I’m a District Attorney, Rebecca. I’m familiar with collateral damage and the weight one life holds against another.”

“Humans aren’t disposable assets.”

“My, you’ve come a long way since our first meeting.”

Gorin blanched, already sensing the level of hypocrisy in her words. A year ago she’d been willing to sacrifice Erin’s life for the good of her peoples’ safety. Back then, the DA was just so much collateral damage. Now, however, things had changed.  

“Going back to your original question,” Erin said, redirecting the conversation into less tumultuous waters. “Taft provided the list. Rest assured, I didn’t tell Lucas anything. I’m still abiding by your wishes.”

Gorin took a slow breath in through her nose, her expression one of tired sarcasm. “It’s like I can sense your next words before they even grace your tongue.”

“You need to tell Jill what’s going on.”

And there it was again, that familiar stubbornness creeping into the older woman’s shoulders, drawing her up like an empress in her bed. “I believe I made myself clear. I will speak to my daughter when it’s—”

“You have until the first of the year,” Erin cut in, mimicking Gorin’s posture, two queens squaring off against one another.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Rebecca, I love your daughter.” No preamble. No mincing words. This was the God’s honest truth Erin laid bare. “I don’t think I’ve loved anyone as deeply as I love her, and I will not keep lying to Jillian. It’s not only unfair, it’s cruel. Even with the new medication, you are dying. It’s time to let your daughter in before you lose your chance.”

“That won’t happen—”

“We both know you’re living on borrowed time. We’re never guaranteed tomorrow. Jillian will understand. She’s stronger than you think, but she needs to know her mother trusts her enough to carry this burden alongside her. Not after you’ve died and left her with more questions than answers.”

Erin was shooting entirely in the dark, unsure if her plea would hit its mark or not. There was a good chance she was digging a hole she couldn’t crawl out of by pushing as hard as she was—burning yet another bridge. Breath held and back stiff, she waited for a response, bracing for the maelstrom that was sure to be brewing.

“You’re right.” Erin reeled into a giddy back peddled, unsure if she’d heard correctly and opened her mouth to say as much. “No, Miss Gilbert, I’m not going to repeat myself just to gratify you. I’m aware my time is coming to a close, but believe it or not, I have taken precautions, and I do intend on telling Jillian everything.”

Erin sensed a conjunction lingering at the end of the sentence. “But?”

Gorn wrinkled her nose, stubborn once again. “You try explaining to your daughter you’re dying from a genetic disease and that she’s—”

The speed with which the older woman shut her mouth gave Erin a chilling kind of whiplash. Dread wormed into her guts, cold and nauseating. “She what, Rebecca? What does Jillian have to do with this?”

“It’s irrelevant.”

“No, absolutely not, what were you going to—”

“There is a silver audio recorder in the chest of drawers behind you,” Gorin interrupted, pointing. “Please get it for me.”

Wary but not possessing enough information to press the woman, Erin rose, finding the drawer easily and tugging it open. The contents were benign—papers, a few journals, old photos Erin had to physically drag herself away from, scraps of previous research—until her hand bumped a pill bottle and she stilled.

There was only one pill in the unmarked, orange container. One single, purple pill that rattled around like the last gasps of a soul. Erin didn’t need to be told what this was. Her look back at Gorin wasn’t accusatory but rather pleading. The woman returned her gaze with an even one, seemingly unperturbed by Erin’s discovery. 

“When you are diagnosed with a genetic disorder that will eventually rob you of your continence, clarity, mobility, and humanity a peaceful way out is a mercy not all can afford. The recorder, please.”

“How long have you kept a cyanide pill next to your bed?” Erin asked quietly, carefully replacing the bottle back in the drawer. 

“Since my diagnosis,” came the simple answer. “I had every intention of ending my life once my research was finished long before the North’s came. Now, it’s a reminder that I am the master of my eventual death, not this disease. I will not leave my loved ones to suffer watching me deteriorate. I will not die forgetting their faces or names.”

Erin could have been angry. She could have been like so many others and accused Gorin of cowardice as though she somehow held the moral high ground. But the truth was, Erin had no room or right to pass judgment on a woman battling a terminal illness. Society dreamed of their elderly passing on peacefully when in reality death comes in violent hues. As jarring as the discovery might have initially been, Erin wasn’t shocked by Gorin’s decision.

Returning once more to the drawer, she focused on her search, finding the silver audio recorder and handing it over. Gorin took it with a steady hand, but her face betrayed her fear. Seated again, Erin edged forward to ask the hard questions but the sound of boots in the hall stopped her dead. A second later Holtzmann swung into the doorway, all smiles and goofy charm until she saw Erin and her demeanor petrified.

 _Food’s here,_ she mumbled, stepping back into the hall and leaving just as quickly as she’d come.

“Good lord,” Gorin groaned, rubbing her eyes with her fingers. “I didn’t raise her to be this dramatic. I blame Abby.”

“It’s alright, Rebecca,” Erin slumped in defeat. “She’s angry and I’m the easiest target.”

The older woman muttered something dark and incomprehensible under her breath before calling loudly for Holtzmann. Erin waited, dreading the conversation to come, as the engineer slunk back to the door, hands shoved into her pockets.

“Help me up.” Gorin startled Erin by reaching for her, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed and pushing to her feet. What followed was a series of shouts and tangled questions of concern that ended with Holtzmann nearly crawling over Erin to get to her mother and Erin hurriedly trying to keep her balance while talking over both Gorin and Holtz.

Put plainly, it was a mess.

“Listen to me,” Gorin snapped, standing to her full height and taking command once more. “I will not be relegated to the back room like an invalid. I am going to _my_ kitchen to eat _my_ meal with _my_ family. You are welcome to join me so long as you two act your age. After dinner, I want the both of you to take a walk to the Echoes and exchange gifts because I know neither of you has gotten the chance to do so. Look at me, Jillian,” she rumbled, catching her daughter’s wandering gaze. “When you and Erin get back, whenever that is, you and I are going to have a very private conversation that’s been long overdue. No arguments. No whining. Do you understand?”

It took everything in Erin not to smile despite the situation. At the end of the day, when the mantle of leader and Matron were shed, Gorin was still a mother. Irritating though her grip on Holtz might have been in the beginning, she did know how to reigning in her child and take command of a situation.

“Now, what did you and Abby bring back?”

 _Pizza,_ Holtz mumbled, digging the toe of her boot into the concrete.

“Excellent. Lead the way.”

If Abby was shocked by Gorin’s arrival she hid it exceptionally well, dolling out slices of pie like it was just another day. Dinner was a tense affair laced liberally with an awkward undertone. No one possessed a strong enough conversational lure to break the charged silence, so they ate quietly and finished quickly.

Taking her usual seat in the living room—a book in hand once more and a mug of tea at her elbow—Gorin repeated her instructions and waited for Erin and Holtzmann to leave, the latter of the two’s mood darkening as they struck out in the direction of the Echoes.

No music filled the cavernous room today, the pipes turned away from their Broadway stages and the cage lights low, lending it a crypt-like feeling. It had the same mournful echo as a body with the soul scooped out, the magic gone, leaving behind a hollow, cold corpse.

Holtzmann took a seat on one of the pillow mounds, looking off at something Erin suspected only she could see. Erin chose a seat further away, giving the woman space and hating every second of it.

“Would you like me to go first or you?”

Picking at a loose thread on her pants, Holtz let the question linger for longer than necessary. _Does it matter?_

“Not really, no.”

_Let’s just get this over with so I can go back and try to keep the fragments of my family together._

Erin had to fight from rolling her eyes, knowing this bout of petulance had very substantial and understandable roots. However, that didn’t make it any less trying. “I didn’t come here to fight, Jill. We missed Christmas and—”

_Yeah, on account my mother passed out and fell into a table due to some mysterious illness no one will talk about. Sorry for that. I’ll try harder next year._

Erin felt every word like a physical blow. Try as she might, each barb hit home in its own especially awful way, making her sink lower. “Be straight with me, Jill. Should I go home? Would it be easier if I wasn’t here?”

The question struck a nerve deep enough to bring Holtzmann out of her pout. Looking up, her expression quivered between angry defiance and indecision. She ached to be closer to Erin but in the same breath wanted to scream and shout and demand the answers she was being denied.

 _No,_ she grunted, raking her hands through her messy up-do. _I want you to stay, I just…I’m angry and I don’t know what to do with the anger or where to put it._  

“Talking it out usually helps.”

_Are you going to answer the questions that need to be answered?_

“You know I can’t.”

_Then we’re at an impasse, aren’t we?_

That was it then. “I guess we are, so I’ll make this easier. Open your gift, and I’ll let myself out.”

Setting the colorful giftbox down at Holtz’s feet, Erin backed away to let the woman decide her next couple of move. Wedging her fingers under the edge of the folded wrapping paper, Holtz peeled away the outer shell, revealing a cardboard box already slit open at the top.

“I had to add the batteries,” Erin explained without prompting, shifting nervously from foot-to-foot. Holtzmann didn’t react, digging through the contents until she retrieved the object inside and brought it into the light.

Immediately her body stilled, the clinical set of her features softening into something akin to wonder.

“I couldn’t think of anything practical, so I decided on something a little more aesthetic,” Erin said watching Holtz gently handle the basketball-sized black orb. “It’s a synthetic night sky. Turn it on and the camera will project whatever constellations you want on the ceiling. I had the tech I bought it from program it for the night sky right now.”

Even in the low light, Erin could see the shine of tears welling in Holtzmann’s eyes—cracks forming in her spiny armor. Sliding to her knees, she fished out the base and set the orb on top, angling it towards the ceiling. A flick of a switch was all it took for the cavernous room to fill with the vastness of the night sky, blue-black and endless.

“I figured…” Erin said into the close space between them, voice barely above a whisper. “If I couldn’t bring you Topside every night to see the stars I’d bring them to you. Your mother helped me pick this out.”

Holtz’s misty eyes tracked a synthetic shooting star zooming across the ceiling. It might have just been a detailed computer rendering but she squeezed her eyes shut nonetheless and sent up the wish building like an overinflated balloon in her chest. Unbidden, a stray tear slid down her cheek, a watery sniff following shortly.

 _I think I understand that line from Wicked now,_ she said after a while, swallowing the growing lump in her throat.

“Which one?”

_“Wishing only wounds the heart”. I’ve been wishing, Erin. As hard as I can for such a long time, and I’m so tired. I just want her better. I want Mother to grow old and happy, but she’s not. She’s…dying and there’s nothing I can do about it._

The sob that finally broke through and shattered her coiled demeanor doubled the smaller woman in half. Hand over her mouth, Holtz bent hard at the waist, trying to keep herself together but failing.

_I know you can’t tell me, and I’m sorry for being angry and pushing you away. You didn’t deserve what I said to you, and I’m sorry. I just don’t know what to do. I thought I had more time. I didn’t think this would end so soon, and it’s killing me. I can’t, Erin. I can’t lose my mother like this!_

Fuck distance. Erin jumped forward and pulled Holtzmann into her, squeezing hard to help keep the fracturing pieces of her partner in place while she finally broke, dissolving into helpless tears.

“I’m so sorry,” Erin whispered into her hair, rocking gently. “I’m so, so sorry.”  

_I don’t want her to go. Not like this._

“Jill, listen to me,” Erin took her girlfriend’s face between her palms. “I sent Lucas Topside with a list of medicine from Taft. He’s going to get what she needs, okay? She’s going to get better, I swear.”

_She still going to die._

“Someday yes, but she wants to make things right between the two of you. Just give her a chance and hold onto hope.”

Holtzmann lost whatever else she was going to say. Clinging to Erin, she let herself fall apart, using her as a lifeline as the storm swept her out to sea.

Lying them back, Erin soothed as much as she could with touch and murmured words of comfort, but this was a toxin that needed to be bled from Holtz’s system like an abscess. She’d bottled up too much too quickly, the overflow finally tearing down her hastily built dam like a wrecking ball blasting through a wooden fence.

Entwined in each other’s arms, they lay in the quiet for a time, watching the sky make a slow revolution above them. Every now and then a star would skitter across the synthetic dots, Erin wishing right alongside Holtzmann for a different outcome than what was before them.

 _How did you survive it?_ Holtz asked after a time, regaining her ability to form words once more.

“Survive what, honey?”

_Losing your mother? It feels like I’m suffocating all the time. Like I’m too big for my body._

“Time,” Erin exhaled, hating the bland answer but knowing it to be the true balm for healing. “I hurt for a long time after losing her. It didn’t feel real half the time. Like I still expected her to be waiting for me after school, or I’d look up at the dinner table thinking she’d be there, but her place was empty. I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to my mother, and I think that’s what hurt the most. One moment she was there and the next she was gone. Your mother still has time, Jill. The medicine will help. She’s not gone yet.”

_Thank you for putting up with me these last few days. I’ve been a right fine asshole to you for no reason, and I’m sorry._

Erin pressed a kiss to Holtz’s temple, fingers tracing patterns against her bare arm. “You don’t need to apologize. I understand what you’re going through.”

_I yelled at you and treated you like shit._

“You were angry, and I was the closest target. No offense taken, but I accept your apology all the same.”

Holtzmann nodded, pinching mucus from her nose and flicking it away with another hard sniff. _Would it be okay if I gave you your gift?_

“Of course,” Erin smiled, sitting up and crossing her legs. Holtz followed, drawing out a small box from her pants pocket.

 _Wait…close your eyes first._ Erin pretended to be suspicious, winning her a wan smile from her partner. _I’m nervous about this one, okay?_

“Fine, _I guess_ ,” she sighed dramatically, closing her eyes all the same. Erin felt Holtz move around her, heard a box being opened, and then jerked when something cold slipped onto the middle finger of her right hand.

_Okay…now._

Erin’s eyes snapped open, vision narrowing to a straw-like focus. The ring hugged the column of her finger perfectly, comprised of a copper body and some unidentifiable gray metal circling the band, giving it an elegantly industrial air. Her gaze was slow to make it back to Holtzmann, shock plain to see.

 _Please god, I hope this isn’t too forward,_ Holtz worried, cheeks heating. She was barely able to sit still. _I wanted it to look like a superconductor because of a really stupid reason. When I’m with you, you fill me with the best kind of electricity. You’re the reason my heart keeps beating…or at least that’s what I was going to write on your card, but then I got distracted and all this happened and I’m really sorry if this—_

Holtz found herself on the flat of her back, Erin’s lips successfully shutting down her ramble and drawing her in. The kiss deepened immediately, flooding every neuron in their bodies with a potent kind of desert rain relief. Nearly a week without touching left them practically starved.

 _I wanted you to have something from down here you could carry with you always,_ Holtz said once they’d separated, tucking stray strands of hair behind Erin’s ears just as an excuse to touch her further. Erin leaned into her palm, eyes closed, basking in the warmth. This was all she ever wanted.

“It’s beautiful. Thank you so much.”

 _I wasn’t too forward? Me giving you a ring this far into things?_ The look that skipped across Erin’s face piqued Holtz’s interest, making her cant her head. _What did I say?_

“Does this mean you’re asking me to stay?”

_Forever if you want._

“I like the idea of forever,” Erin whispered, lips ghosting across Holtzmann’s while her hands drifted down her body to an all too familiar junction. Holtz felt her breath catch at the contact but then Erin was rolling away with a laugh, heading for the door and spinning coyly on her heels when she reached it.

“You have a very important conversation coming up with your mother, my love. I don’t think going to her bathed in an after-sex glow would help matters.”

 _So you’re just going to tease and run?_ Holtzmann chuckled, already knowing the maneuvers to this game. Her smile showed the length of her fangs in carnal challenge.

“Isn’t that how this is done?”

Erin was off and running before Holtzmann could blink, finally able to laugh for the first time in days, and god what a feeling that was. She knew she couldn’t outrun the Undergrounder. They weren’t even remotely evenly matched, but Erin put up a good fight, making it to the upper tunnels before Holtzmann snagged her around the waist, earning a squeal in the process of lifting her off her feet.

A few love-nips here and there and the two were moving again, heading for the passage that would take them to up the rest of the way but hit a snag when the tunnels they stepped into were dark.

“We came this way down here, right?” Erin asked, glancing back the way they’d come and the light spilling from the access hatch.

 _Yeah. It’s probably just a power blip. There’s a fuse box right around the corner. Hold on, I’ll get the lights up._ Holtz moved off, leaving Erin to wait. It wasn’t so bad now, her fear of the dark. In the Underground, she knew she was safe.

Leaning against the wall, Erin couldn’t help admire the ring on her hand in the semi-darkness, a goofy grin pulling at her cheeks. Honestly, who would have thought a year ago things would have gotten to this point? Erin turned her hand back and forth—admitting the shadows the lights cast—blinking to chase away the stray wisp of ghost lights lingering in her field of vision but frowned when the streaking balls didn’t disperse.  

No. Not ghost lights. 

Erin looked up and squinted into the inky darkness ahead of her, unsure what she was seeing. A ball of iridescent green light moved manically along the wall almost like a laser pointer, zigging and zagging before disappearing down the tube. Curious—she’d never seen lights like these down here—Erin leaned out and looked for more, shocked to find quite a few more balls of green light chasing the first.

“Holtz?” she called over her shoulder without look away.

 _Yup!_ came the reply from further down.

“Come here and look at this.”

_Hold your ponies. I’ve almost got this fixed._

Turning back, Erin tried to track the orbs from their origin but the tunnel split off at a T-joint directly left and right of where she was standing and nothing but darkness occupied either end.

“That’s so weird,” she whispered, stepping out into the tunnel to get a better look. “It’s almost like—”

 Thirty yards away in the darkest part of the tube a pair of glowing green eyes lit up like feline eyeshine, making Erin’s blood run cold.

“Holtz!”

The pair of eyes didn’t blink but appeared to shift closer with unnerving stealth, closing the distance at an almost reckless speed. Ten yards out, one pair suddenly became two, three, four….six…ten.

Erin couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t do anything but stare in mute horror at the pack of something almost otherworldly drifting her way. Comprehension alluded her. Instinct failed her. Rooted in place, she didn’t have time to react.

Holtzmann shouted something in the distance—probably hooting at her successful repair—but Erin didn’t hear because the second the lights came back on it banished the shadows and illuminated the black-clad bodies of nearly thirty armored men creeping towards her.

Reality swung back with all the finesse of a lethal backhand, taking the wind from Erin’s lungs in a single screamed name that was drowned out by the explosion of an automatic weapon lurching into action and the concussion of bullets striking the stones directly above Erin’s head.

Someone grabbed her hand, making her jump and scream. Holtzmann. She was shouting something at her, the brush of her consciousness battering against Erin’s mind. A sharp tug in the opposite direction of the approaching danger got her moving. They ran, Holtz’s wrench raising and falling against the pipes snaking alongside them, sounded the alarm.

**Emergency! The Underground has been breached.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two more chapters and so much left to be said. I hope we're all ready for what's to come cause I'm sure as fuck not.


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry you all. This is a pretty long read and a massively heavy chapter we're embarking on. It's safe to assume tissues and something soft to cuddle with will be in order because we're literally hitting rock bottom. I initially intended this to be a two-parter, but because of the unfolding events, I didn't want to break the groove, so to speak.
> 
> Again, I am so sorry for what's to come. Oh, and to help with the vibe check out the song that inspired everything
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6i4x8PC25nY

Run.

That was all Holtzmann could hear her instincts shrill as she fled down the tunnels at breakneck speed, Erin half a step behind.

Run. Don’t stop. Never stop. Run until the twisting maze of concrete and pooled shadow hid her from the terror making its way towards them like a pack of hungry wolves.

The how and why these people were in the Underground meant nothing. These were hunters seeking prey and judging by the bullets that nearly ended Erin’s life, they’d flushed out their query like rabbits from a bush. But the fear of mortal danger couldn’t be an option right now no matter how strongly it pumped in Holtzmann’s veins. As easy as it was to fall against the crippling fear beating at her like a wild animal in a cage she had others to think about, chiefly her family and the community under their protection.

Something exploded behind them, breaking Holtzmann’s concentration. Sparks igniting in the tunnel half-light like falling stars as bullets ricocheted off the walls and disappeared into the darkness. One whizzed past Erin’s ear close enough she felt the heat. Holtzmann winced, feeling something pop against her left side like a rubber band against her flesh. They couldn’t keep going like this. It was literally like shooting fish in a barrel.

Taking a sudden, hard left, Holtzmann thought on her feet and slid down a recess pipe hidden in the shadows, hand over her partner’s mouth to dampen the scream that was sure to come from the sudden sensation of falling. Landing at the bottom in a fumbling heap, they hunched there, waiting, frozen outwardly while their bodies raged with shivering adrenaline.

Bootfalls raced by overhead, glimpses of green scopes and the rattle of heavy weaponry and armor flashing past until the tunnel was silent once more. Only then did Holtzmann and Erin crawl out of their hiding place, alone but far from safe.

“Oh my god,” the taller woman wheezed in a barely coherent babble, close to tears and failing at calming herself. “They shot at you－me－us! Wh-who are they? Where did they come from? Oh god, they’re heading straight for－”  

Footsteps. Dozens of them. Coming back towards them. Oh god…

 _Erin! Erin, look at me _,__  Holtzmann said, taking her hyperventilating girlfriend’s face between her palms and guiding their eyes together _. We’re safer apart than together. I’ll lead them off. I know the tunnels better than anyone. You get back to Mother, okay? Find my mother and tell her what’s happening._

“No. Not without you,” Erin hiccuped, holding Holtz’s hands and squeezing them. Salt left trails down her face, eyes wide and bright against her pale skin.   

 _You can do this,_  Holtz reassured, bringing their foreheads together. In the distance she could hear the men approaching, deadly intent impregnating every shadow. __T_ wo rights and a left. Remember that. Two rights and a left. Straight down this tunnel, you’ll come to a crack in the wall next to a red pipe. Go through it. It’s a shortcut to the Main Hall. I’ll meet you there, but you need to find my mother._

When Erin didn’t budge, frozen with her hands locked around Holtzmann’s hands to the point her skin was turning white, the blonde nudged her back as gently as possible. _I swear I’ll find you. Go to where the false wall is near my house. I’ll come through there _.__

Boots in the adjacent tunnel. Shouted orders to spread out and find the two women. They would be there any second. Holtzmann was running out of time.

 _Go, Erin!_ She shoved her hard, hating herself for the look of confused betrayal and terror further draining the color from Erin’s face. How was it only an hour ago they’d been safe and warm in each other's arms?

That seemed to kick-start something in the DA’s mind like an engine finally finding a gear. Backing away, Erin fled down the tunnel just as Holtz was raising her wrench and slamming a hasty message into the pipes around her, calling to the Underground and effectively giving her position away. The two locked eyes one final time －hope stretched unbelievably thin between them － before Holtzmann took off into the darkness, leading danger away from the single most precious thing in her life.

 

* * *

 

In the lower tunnels where the lights didn’t flicker and the sound of gunfire couldn’t reach, Gorin settled back into her chair with a displeased frown. Between her fingers she turned a silver audio recorder, watching the lamplight catch the edges and reflect back at her.

“Wow, it’s been a long time since I saw that,” Abby said from behind Gorin’s chair, taking a seat next to her mentor and best friend. “Not since our research days back at MIT. I couldn’t pry that thing away from you for love nor money. Thought I’d have to surgically remove it from your palm at retirement…too bad we never got there.”

“Has it been that long?” Gorin mused, tipping her head back to stare at the ceiling like she could count the years in the cement cracks. Sometimes it felt like a lifetime ago. Sometimes the wounds were still fresh as the day she got them.

“Thirty-three years this year,” Abby exhaled, feeling the weight of so much time spent Underground. “God, where has it all gone?”

“That’s something I ask myself regularly.” Gorin was quiet for a time, listening to drifting conversations taking place in the pipes. Holding the recorder up, she caught her reflection in the metallic surface, the woman staring back unrecognizable to the younger version of herself who used to hold her instruments with such reverence. “I think this has gone on long enough, don’t you?”

The question stumped Abby until the implications clicked like a puzzle piece sliding into place, drawing her eyebrows into her hairline. “You’re going to tell her?”

Gorin couldn’t decide if the shock she heard in Abby’s voice was endearing or irritating. “Yes, I’m going to tell her. I think it’s time, given the circumstances of my current health…or lack thereof.”

Abby scoffed, making a rude noise with her mouth. “Stop it. You’ve got years left.”

“That’s never a certainty, and you said it yourself, Jill deserves to know. I’ve been selfish for too long.”

“What made you change your mind?”

“Between you and Erin, I’ve not gotten a moment’s peace in weeks,” Gorin said, shooting Abby a poignant look over the cooling steam of the tea kettle placed between them.

Abby, for her part, couldn’t keep from looking smug. “Glad we finally wore you down.”

“We’ll see if all of this will be for not.”

“She’s going to understand, Rebecca. Jill’s a smart girl.”

“I’m not worried about understanding,” Gorin sighed, slipping the recorder into her pocket and rising with only minimal effort. Her weakness was better today, the tremble in her arms and legs manageable. If only that could be a lasting thing. “I’m worried she won’t forgive me after this.”

“What’s there to forgive?” Abby challenged, turning to follow her mentor. “You’ve given her the best possible chance at life. Regardless of the mistakes in your past, she’s not going to stop being your daughter or run from you.”

 “Always the optimist,” came the sarcastic reply.

“God, someone has to be your counterbalance.”

In a rare moment of emotional weakness, Gorin stalled near the kitchen, arms holding her middle in a failed effort to keep her nervousness from showing. “I’m afraid, Abby. When I’m gone…” she couldn’t even bring herself to finish the sentence, blinking to still the moisture brimming in her eyes. Rubbing the salt away with the heel of her palm did little to stem the flow.

“When you’re gone, I’ll still be here,” Abby said gently, filling in the blanks she knew Gorin couldn’t. “I’ll take care of Jill like I always have, but I’m not the only one in her life anymore. Like it or not, I think Erin’s here to stay.”

Gorin husked a laugh like dry leaves skating across gravel. “She has successfully grown on me, I can say that much.”

“Yeah, she’s kind of like a fungus in the best way. Not the black mold kind that slowly suffocates you. More like those weirdly cute little mushrooms that sprout up after a lot of rain.”

That managed to wake a weak smile on the older woman’s lips. She was about to reply when the pipes running the length of the ceiling suddenly exploded in activity, the clanging so loud and frantic it was impossible to understand the message.

“What in the fresh hell?” Abby winced around the cacophonous noise, squinting through the din. She barely took two steps in the direction of the radio when the echo of a shuddering boom reached the two, bringing them both out of their respective skins.

Then the popping started.

Abby whipped around, confusion and fear leeching the color from her skin. There was no mistaking the sound for what it was, but disbelief stole reaction, rooting them in place.

Impossible. Not here. Never here.

“Call for Goliath,” Gorin ordered, moving for the door. “I need his eyes and ears. Tell him－”

Their worst fears, those squatting in the back of their minds, finally found a crack and crawled through, manifesting into tangible terror when Taft wrenched open Gorin’s door and uttered one horrified sentence.

“The Norths have found us.”

Abby couldn’t respond, freezing up like a deer in the headlights. It was possible her heat had stopped while Gorin’s flew into her throat. Without hesitation, the older woman dove into a nearby drawer and withdrew a gun Abby hadn’t seen in years, black and unbelievably lethal. Shoving it into her waistband, she pushed past Taft, basking orders as she did.

“Get everyone into Goliath’s tunnels! They’ll never find us that deep! Go!”

“Where are you going!?” Taft called after her, his rumpled appearance matching the harried look in his eyes.

“To find my daughter!” Gorin shouted back, shoulder open the false door in the adjacent hall and ascending into the chaotic upper tunnels.

 

* * *

 

Holtzmann kept her head down and ran as fast as she could, outpacing the men chasing her by at least a hundred yards. They might have been trained to hunt and kill but she’d lived her life running these halls, learning them as easily as she knew the veins on the back of her hand. Like a fish in a river, she seamlessly flew through the pipes, impeded by nothing but her own stamina and the hot pain in her side. It took a few sharp turns and a false wall to lose them, but eventually, Holtz slowed her pace and took a moment to catch her breath.

Hands on her knees, the stitch in her side flared again, prompting her to press against the warm wetness steadily soaking into the front of her shirt. In all honesty, she thought getting shot would have hurt more. Then again, adrenaline was a tricky bitch.

 _Not now. Think about it later,_  she panted, pushing the wound from her mind. She’d have time to deal with it once her home was safe. It was towards that safety she now ran, a plan already in motion.

This was half the reason she sent Erin back to the Main Hall. Unless the men had a guide, they wouldn’t find their way that deep into the tunnels, which meant there was one fail-safe still at Holtzmann’s disposal.

The security doors.

Installed years ago to prevent gangs from infiltrating the Underground should they bypass the Centuries and Goliath, there were more than ten security doors running the length of Holtzmann’s home. If she could get to a Fall Station －three of which existed －she could trigger them all at once to start closing, effectively trapping the men in an endless maze. Even if they somehow broke through, Holtz and her people would be long gone.

Taking turns at a pace that required her to hold onto pipes to keep from slipping and falling into the walls, she raced through intersections and t-joints, seeking and eventually finding a nondescript antechamber that had everything she needed.

One wall out of four had been dedicated to a dizzying array of bird’s nest wires and switches wirelessly linked to the doors. Dormant to conserve power, it would take pumping a priming lever to wake the behemoth of a machine, something Holtz immediately set to, pumping the lever until the lights under each switch glowed red. Hands slick with sweat and blood, she hastily woke the sleeping servos, fumbling switches as fast as they appeared ready.

This was going to work.

This _had_ to work.

Finger on the final switch, she turned to watch the door directly behind her fall but felt the floor drop out from under her, vision narrowing. A green dot hovered like an insistent firefly around the front of her chest, drifting lazily as the carrier of the automatic rifle stalked closer.  

In another setting it would have been almost comical: the hero setting a trap thinking they’d won only for the glimmer of scopes like green or red chicken pocks to mar their plans. There was, however, no comedy to be found tonight.

Panting in an effort to calm her racing heart rate, Holtz stood her ground, knowing there was no chance for escape. Hands up, she turned to fully face the figure emerging from the shadowy tunnel mouth, the green night vision goggles shielding his eyes coupled with his matted black body armor giving him a distinctly insect-like quality.

 The man slowed, confusion apparent even behind his electronic protection. Holtzmann watched the gun barrel dip, a hand coming up to push back goggles, revealing the human beneath and the quizzical set of his brow.

“What the fuck are you?” he squinted in obvious disbelief, staring at something he perceived as closer to an animal than man.

Well, it wasn’t like Holtzmann could answer. Not that she wanted to even if she could. Silence and the shock of her appearance were her greatest allies.

A radio fizzled at the man’s shoulder, breaking the spell suspending them in stalled reaction. Holtzmann didn’t get the opportunity to hear what was being relayed, however. The second the man dropped his arm to reach for the speaker a hand three sizes larger than a normal hand materialized out of the darkness, causing the soldier to jump and spin.

Eyes aglow behind his white and red mask, Goliath caught the solider by the face with his right hand, muffling whatever startled scream or curse burst from him. It took no more effort to crush the radio along with the solder's hand than it would cracking peanut shells. Holtzmann heard bones disintegrate, screams coming in earnest now behind Goliath’s meaty fingers.

When the giant stood to his full height, taking the man with him, the screaming continued until Goliath slammed him into the wall once, twice, four, six…eight times. Slammed him until his cries and struggling stopped. Slammed him until his body hung limp and listless like a doll with its strings cut. Slammed him until a red stain marred the cracked tunnel wall and Goliath discarded the body with no ceremony, dropping it like a dog tiring of a toy.

Holtzmann struggled to catch her breath, backing away, eyes glued to the dead man missing half of his skull. Not even his helmet saved him.  

 ** **Shed no tears for these men or the creature in their midst, little sister. Run instead.**** Goliath rumbled, turning and lifting his mask so she could see his face and the burn of his glowing eyes beneath. Rage boiled in the green depths, hot and dangerous, promising the worst kind of ending for anyone unlucky enough to cross his path. ****Tonight, here there be monsters.****

Turning and lowering his mask, Goliath faced the rest of the company slowly approaching, drawn by the sudden radio silence of their comrade and the GPS on his belt. Orders were shouted. Cries came. Goliath’s silhouette popped sharply against the white flashes of muzzle fire, the cry tearing from him practically shaking the walls as he ran into a maelstrom of bullets and gunfire.      

With no alternatives but a swift death, Holtzmann took the opportunity Goliath provided and ran, unsure if her friend was alive or dead. Dead most likely. Even a creature like him couldn’t stand up to dozens of rounds fired at once. Tears would fall later when she could properly grieve but desperation lorded above all else, forcing the blonde to scramble for the closest security door. And when men broke free from the melee and their battle with the otherworldly giant it pushed Holtzmann that much faster, but she misjudged her speed advantage. That or the hole in her side was slowing her because no matter how far or fast she ran there always seemed to be someone right behind her.

The sudden feeling of fingers curling tight around her wrist was enough to strip reason and fear from the Undergrounder and turn her feral, teeth and claws now on display. Spinning with every intention of ripping her attacker to pieces, Holtz stuttered to a stop when an arm holding a black Glock alighted on her shoulder and fired, taking the closest soldier full in the face. Gorin fired four more times, each bullet planting death in a new body.

When all was said and done and silence swept back in like a vacuum, men lay dead around them.

 _Mother?_  Holtz shook, unable to comprehend the surrealism of what was happening. Her mother…didn’t own a gun. Let alone know how to fire one. Right? The evidence proved otherwise but that didn’t make it any less remarkable.

“Oh my god, I found you,” Gorin panted in relief, wrapping her daughter in a crushing hug that would, under normal circumstances, be a most welcome embrace.

 _Shit!_ Holtz gasped, grinding her teeth against the sudden flare of pain. She barely caught herself when her knees buckled, using a white-knuckle grip on her mother’s jacket to keep standing.

“Jillian?”

No other questions were needed when Gorin moved back and felt cool tunnel air kiss something wet on her palm. Digging something out of her jacket, cold blue light illuminated the passage, turning the blood soaking Holtz’s front and Gorin’s hand almost black. The blonde tried to push her mother away but she was insistent, gently peeling up her shirt, revealing the angry hole just beside her navel.

“Oh my god!”

 _I’m okay. I swear. It’s just a _－__ Large enough to fit a pinky tip, the bullet hole oozed blood, slow to clot. _Wow…I uh, I didn’t think it was that bad. Okay…yeah, that’s not so great._

“We need Taft,” Gorin hurriedly said, struggling to tear off a strip of her coat. She had to admit the movies made it look easier.

 _I’ll be fine _,__ Holtz pushed back, giving herself space and almost tripping when her heel caught on the arm of a soldier. Pinwheeling her arms to keep balanced, Holtz stumbled into an upright position that put her directly at the front of the carnage littering the floor.

Carnage her mother cause.

 _Who are they?_ Not the right question but it was a start, waking others she was barely able to ask. _Who are you?_

“Not now,” Gorin said, pulling Holtz in the opposite direction.“I’ll explain everything later. We need to get to Goliath’s safe house. We’ll be safe in the deep tunnels. They’ll never get to us there if you’ve activated the－”

 _Stop _!__  Holtz pulled back, disentangling herself. Gorin turned but whatever sharp replay sat loaded on her tongue died when Holtzmann moved further away, fear turning her blue eyes vibrant. _I’m scared and I hurt and you’re not helping. Please…don’t make me run from you too. Tell me what’s happening._

Gorin’s heart clenched hard enough she almost stopped breathing, her demeanor softening. “Jillian, I…I would never hurt you. Ever. Please believe that.”

 _I wish I could,_  Holtz sniffed with a wobbly lower lip, eyes flicking down to the gun still held tightly in her mother’s hand. _But this…you…I don’t know where to start. Who are you? Who are these people? Why do they want me dead?_

“Dead is the last thing they want you to be.”

_What are you talking about?_

“Jillian,” Gorin said, holstering her gun and attempting to reach across the growing divide for her daughter. Her heart broke further when Holtz moved out of reach. She was running away… “I would never intentionally put your life in jeopardy. All I have ever wanted for you was a quiet, peaceful life free from the mistakes I made in my youth. I can’t tell you anything right now but you will have answers when all of this is said and done. You have my word.”

_You’ve promised me answers before. Why is now any different?_

From a pocket in her jacket, Gorin retrieved the silver recorder and handed it to her daughter. “When this is over, listen to what I have to say. Right now, all I ask is that you trust me enough to see us out of danger.”

Holtzmann held the small recording device, mind whirling like water draining out of a sink. So many warring emotions battered her, threatening to drag her into murky depths she was unlikely to escape from. The silence stretching between them was deafening.

_Answer me honestly, have you lied to me?_

“Yes,” Gorin said without hesitation. “Yes, I have, but it has always been for your benefit. I know that doesn’t make sense. Nothing will right now, but I swear you’ll get the full truth from me when all of this is over. Please, trust me until then.”

Holtzmann knew she could run at any time and be justified in doing so. All that her mother was and claimed to be lay in question at their feet along with the dead, but a mother she still was. Despite the fear and the thousands of questions burning a hole in her tongue, Holtz still loved the woman.

_The whole truth? Promise?_

“Every word,” Gorin nodded. “You can hate me all you like after this, but please come with me.” She didn’t anticipate her daughter to do much more than nod, so the feeling of Holtz stepping forward and wrapping herself around Gorin’s shoulders almost brought her to tears.

_No matter what happens, you are still my mother. I could never hate you._

Gorin felt no shame letting the moisture in her eyes fall, carefully holding her daughter. “And you will always be my world. I will love you for the rest of time.”

 _We can’t wait any longer,_ Holtz sniffed, ending the moment.  _The security doors are falling._

“Where’s the closest one?”

 _Four tunnels over. We don’t have a lot of ti_ __－_ _

Her explanation was interrupted by the sound of beeping coming from one of the men nearby. Even in the dark, they could see a device on his helmet light up, blinking in rapid succession.

_I think they have GPS tracking. We need to leave. Now._

__

* * *

 

Darkness clung to her, seeping into every pore of her being like liquid smoke. It stole the passage of time, making it feel as if Erin had been wandering for hours or even days in this subterranean heaven turned hell. She stumbled blindly forward, hands groping for purchase, praying this break in the earth wouldn’t become her tomb. Pipes slipped by, jagged pieces of ancient metal hooking and tearing things Erin couldn’t see but could clearly feel. It was like wandering through a pitch black forest of metal thorns, each ragged exhale echoing absurdly loud in her oversensitive ears.

Without warning, the passage narrowed to an unreasonable degree, squeezing, strangling, suffocating. Erin began to panic. Claustrophobia had never been an issue in the past, but given her current situation, the tighter the passage the steeper her panic spiked.

She should have never left Jillian. That thought joined the hurricane of others beating at her skull. She should have stayed. They should have never separated because now she was lost and scared and there were men shooting at them. If Jill didn’t make it out alive…Erin couldn’t even finish that thought without choking around the constriction of her throat.

No, Jill would be there when she found her way out.

She would be waiting for her.

She promised.

A slash of gray split the blackness like a dim lightning strike, magnetically drawing Erin’s eye. The exit! It had to be because the closer she shifted the wider and brighter it was becoming and the more sounds she could hear.

People. She could hear people and banging on pipes and shouting.

Feet running.

Screaming…

Oh god. Oh god, __no__.

Abandoning her slow shuffle, Erin tore for the opening, ignoring the sting and burn of fresh cuts and torn clothing. It was little more than a crack in the pipe－like Jillian said－ big enough for a person with narrow shoulders to squeeze through. Grunting in an effort to edge around her last obstacle, Erin made her final reach for freedom when the sound of gunfire stopped her cold.

Figures rushed past the crack. Someone stumbled in the melee and went down hard, spilling their belongings with a cry. They rose with all the grace of a fleeing prey animal, scrambling to follow the crowd, but for a split second, Erin made eye contact with the dark haired woman she’d seen at the feast less than a week ago. How the woman found her in the darkness of the crack didn’t matter because one second she was standing and the next the chamber erupted in the cacophonous rattle of gunfire and the woman was thrown sideways in a spray of crimson and led.

Erin’s blood turned to sludge, hands of terror strangling the scream echoed by dozens of unseen bodies.

Bodies…that was all that would be left.

She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t compute the trauma and tragedy unfolding around her like a horror movie she had no wish to partake in. At the mouth of the crack lay the woman, eyes open and staring lifelessly at the ceiling. The holes the bullets left behind were larger than a human fist.

Bile ignited an inferno at the back of Erin’s constricted throat, doubling her over. She vomited until her stomach cramped, tears joining the blood and sickness staining the floor. With uneven steps she exited the passage, numb from the neck down despite the tears still flowing. What met her in the Main Hall was nothing short of horrific, the sight burning itself into her memory.

The Underground, razed to the ground.

Homes were burning. Shelters destroyed. Acrid smoke coiled along the top of the cement tunnel like boiling storm clouds, filling the air with the stench of burning plastic. And littered through it all were bodies.

Some were faces she recognized. Many she didn’t. More gunfire popped off further down the passage but it might as well have been distant fireworks for all the reaction it woke in Erin. She walked the length like a zombie, eyes seeing but not comprehending, wading through tragedy too heinous to find traction in the fragments of her mind.     

The Underground had fallen.

Gorin’s kingdom was no more.

Was there nowhere on earth she could find safety?

A figure moved among the carnage, slow in their shock. It took Erin a moment to comprehend she was seeing Abby standing in the center of the hall, arms limp at her side, milky eyes wide and wild as the echoing sounds painted gruesome pictures for her strange eyes to see. Erin’s footfalls must have alerted the woman, but she didn’t spin or flee. Didn’t try to run from what might have been an attacker. Instead, she slowly turned to face the DA, shattering disbelief sucking the pallor from her skin.

“They were never supposed to find us,” Abby whispered. “We were safe down here.”

“Who was never meant to find you?”

Abby didn’t answer immediately, shock stealing her senses. It took Erin grabbing her upper arms and turning her away to get the woman’s focused attention to break. “Abby, who’s down here with us?”

“The Norths.”

Just like that, hope of survival died a shrieking death. Everything made such brutal sense now. Edward North left no survivors. It was his MO. Erin knew this and staggered under the weight of knowing her mortality hung by a slender thread.

“Get Jill. We have to hide.”

Abby blinked, terrified understanding dawning like a bloody sunrise. “She’s not with you?”

Erin’s stomach bottom out, dizziness making her wobble. “We split up. She said she was going to lead the men away from us. I don’t know how long ago that was, but she said she’d be here when I got through. She’s not here?”

“Shit… _shit _!__ ” The shorter woman suddenly spun in place almost as if her blind eyes could see through concrete as she searched for her niece. Hands raking her frizzy hair, she looked on the verge of madness. “Erin, the Norths can’t find her! You know what they’ll do if they find her! Come on.”

“No, Jill said she’d come,” Erin stubbornly shook her head, not daring to move. “I not leaving without her again.”

“We’re going to look for her.”

“Give her time!”

“There is no more time, Erin!” Abby shouted, tears cutting lines down her pale face. With a sweeping gesture, she motioned to the devastation around them. “Don’t you get it? They’ve won! This is all that’s left of my home. The Norths took everything from me thirty-three years ago and now they’re taking the last of my family! I’m going to find Jill and Rebecca even if it kills me, and I’m not stopping for you or anyone else along the way! So you can stay here and wind up with a few extra holes when the Norths come back or you can follow me and find Jill. Your choice, but I’m not waiting.”

That was it then. Erin had her choices laid out, and true to form Abby was sprinting off down the Main Hall without even a backward glance.

So it came down to go or stay? Wait for Jill to appear or follow Abby. It shouldn’t have been a hard decision but it was, tearing her in two with ‘what-if’s’ cropping up like persistent weeds. What if Holtz made it back here, saw the dead, and thought the worst? But in the same token, what if Holtz was waiting for her further on?

Erin’s body made it’s decision long before her head caught up with the situation. Jogging to catch up with Abby, she kept in line with the woman, threading her way through pipes and passageways with practiced ease.  

“Do you even know where she and Rebecca are?”

“No, but I know where Rebecca went. If she’s found Jill they’ll go into Goliath’s tunnels. They’re the deepest and hardest to get to. Only me, Jill, and Rebecca know how to get there, so I doubt we’ll be followed.”

“Abby, how did the Norths get down here?”

The question was as dangerous as it was pressing because only two options presented themselves: sabotage or lucky infiltration. Erin had trouble believing the latter.

“I don’t know,” Abby said, hardly slowing. “But you can bet your ass I’ll find out.”

They made good time, encountering no soldiers until their luck eventually ran out when they flew past a t-joint only to hear a barked order followed by the hard clump of boots behind them.  

“There’s an antechamber ahead!” Abby shouted, keeping stride with Erin despite her shorter stature. “Get inside! The door locks with a wheel latch!”

Head down, the two ran like death dogged their heels, out of breath but not daring to slow. Erin finally saw what Abby was talking about and raced through, the shorter woman coming in fast behind her. She missed her first grab for the hatch but caught it on her second try, pulling it closed. Half a second later the soldiers caught up, slamming against the metal like waves against a cliff face. The concussion was enough to pop the hatch and push it back towards Abby.

“The door…Erin. Help me with the door!”

Barely breathing beyond a rattling wheeze, Erin put her shoulder into the metal and pushed, two women straining against the might of trained men on the opposite side. Luck got the door to latch but that’s where it ended. Try as Abby might, the wheel wouldn’t spin, held in place on the opposite side by hands stronger than hers.

“No! _Fuck _!__ ” Abby swore, grabbing the wheel and putting all her weight in keeping it from turning. She was successful but only just, starting a deadly game of tug-of-war with the men on the opposite side.

Frenzied by this point, Erin cast about and found an old rusted pipe lying nearby. Shouting for Abby to move, she shoved it into the spokes, temporarily giving them the leverage they needed.

“Shit, it’s not…going to hold,” Abby grunted, straining with all her might to hold onto the pipe. Sweat rolled down her beet-red face, teeth bared in a hard grimace that pipped the veins along her neck.

“Hold on. Just hold on! I’ll find something to-”

“Go, Erin. I’ll hold the door,” Abby snarled, legs starting to quake with the whole body effort she was using to keep death behind them. “Go! That tunnel does straight down. If they’re down there you can’t miss them!”

“I’m not leaving you too!”

“Run Erin! You’re no good to Jill dead! Find her! Keep her and Rebecca safe.”

“Abby…”

“ _Get the fuck out of here goddamnit!_ ”

Here she was again, useless, unable to protect the only family she ever wanted. Backing away, Erin tried not to crumble under the guilt. She had to find Jill. She had to get her out, but at what cost?

It would eat her alive remembering how she ran.

__

* * *

 

Holtzmann ran, arms pumping, aiming to beat the security door ahead of her before it fell and trapped both her and her mother in the chamber. It wasn’t falling that fast, kept on a timer of her own design back in the Fall Station. She could make it…she could make it… _she could make it!_

Sliding to her knees, Holtz zoomed under the falling lip only to yelp when the heavy steel security door lost power and slammed down behind her with enough force to shake the ground. Spinning, she realized with a sick twist of dread Gorin wasn’t with her.

 _No! Mother!_ She threw her shoulder into the door and cried out when met with unyielding steel. 

“It’s alright, Jillian. I’ll find another way.”

_No! Don’t move. I’m going to override the door manually._

“We didn’t install a manual override,” Goring said turning to face the room. Somewhere not far from them the soldiers were closing in. She could feel them approaching like an oncoming storm.

 _Of_ course _we did _,__  Holtz scoffed, trying to sound confident despite the swirl of cold snakes overtaking her intestines. _Everything has an override._

Yanking the control box’s front display off directly beside her, Holtzmann stared at the nest of wires, brain slow to compute what needed doing. Rewiring the door wouldn’t be difficult. At least in theory. She’d built the system, after all. Peace of cake!

Only it wasn’t for one dreadfully awful reason. There was no power running to the door. Try as she might, Holtz couldn’t find a circuit that didn’t seem to be fried. The door was down and down for good.  

 Holtzmann felt her heart plunge into the concrete between her feet. No…no no no no she could fix it! She knew how! Where was the power?!

 _I can fix it!_ she called through the thick metal. _I know where the circuit panel is. I can reroute power. Just hang on!_

“We don’t have time,” Goring said with her eyes scrunched closed, swallowing the lump in her throat. “Keep going. You know where to go. I’ll find another way.”

 _I’m not going without you!_ Holtz snapped. _Just give me five minutes. I’ll get the door up._

“We don’t have five minutes,” she tried to reason. “It’s alright. I’ll find you again. Keep going.”

Holtz began to panic. This wasn’t right. She could fix it. Just a few rerouted wires, that’s all! If she could pull the ground wire from the－

The sound of footfalls approaching fast behind her had Holtz rounding with a fresh snarl, teeth bared and claws. She lunged at the movement in her periphery, grabbing the figure and pinning them again the wall only to freeze from head to toe, surprise melting the savageness from her face.

“I－I found you,” Erin whispered in tearful relief, holding onto Holtzmann’s hands that seemed to be the only thing keeping her standing.

Holtzmann didn’t know where to look on the woman, her eyes jumping from the blood spattered across Erin’s front to the angry cuts and tunnel muck marring almost every visible inch of her. Instinct, however, had her enveloping Erin in a hug that left them both weak, the two hardly able to keep the other up they were shaking so badly.

 _You’re safe,_  Holtz whispered into Erin’s hair, repeating the words until her brain could actually believe what her eyes and hands were telling her. _How did you find me down here? You were supposed to be in the Main Hall _,__ she said, leaning back and searching the DA for serious wounds that would explain the amount of blood staining Erin’s shirt but finding none.

“The Main Hall’s fallen, Jill,” Erin stuttered a reply, adrenaline draining from her and taking her strength with her. Holtz helped her to her knees, never once letting go. “They…the Norths－they. They infiltrated it. They were shooting people, Jill. I couldn’t find your mom but I found Abby. She…we were headed here but they caught up with us. I’m so sorry, Jill. I’m so, so sorry.”

Erin’s tears scared Holtz more than her admission did. She felt the earth rotate on its axis, threatening to dump her into space. _Abby’s…gone?_

“I don’t know,” Erin hiccuped sharply. “But they were right behind us and she was holding the door closed. She told me to find you. I’m so sorry!”

It was like a hole had been blown out of Holtz’s heart, sucking the air from her lungs.

“Where’s your mom?”

Dread replacing disbelief, Holtzmann spun back to the security door, determined more than ever to get it to rise. _On the other side. The door won’t open. Help me try to lift it._

“Rebecca!” Erin called, following Holtz.

“Erin?”

“I’m here.”

“Where’s Abby? Is she with you?”

Erin stalled, trying and failing to keep the sob locked down. “I…I don’t know. We made it to an antechamber with a wheel lock but it wouldn’t work. Abby stayed behind to hold the door closed.”

“Oh my god,” Gorin exhaled, clutching her chest.

“Rebecca, how do we get you out? Tell me what to do?”

 “There’s nothing that can be done,” came the sad reply, Gorin resting her head against the door, eyes drifting down to the gun in her hand. “Erin, you and Jillian go to Goliath’s tunnels. Hide. The Norths can’t find you there no matter how many they have down here.”

_I’m not leaving without you!_

“You don’t have a choice this time, Jillian.”

Holtzmann’s hands beat a rough tempo against the door, palms stinging with each impact. _Mother, please! You don’t have to do this! We’ll get the door up._

“I’m sorry.” Even through the steel, Holtz heard the unmistakable sound of a gun magazine sliding into place and her stomach dropped. “We’re out of time, and I’ve run from this for too long. I’m not letting them try to take you again. They won’t make it past this junction.”

_What are you talking about?!_

“I wish I had time to explain everything to you. I’m so sorry I don’t. Not in person anyway.”

 _You don’t have to do this. You can come with us,_ Holtzmann pressed herself flush against the cold metal, willing it to rise. _We’ll hide. I won’t go Topside again, I swear. Just please help us open the door._   

But time had run out.

An explosion suddenly sounded in the adjacent room, powerful enough to shake the floor. Muffled shouts reached the blonde along with a shouted, “Jillian, run!” followed by the loud _ket ket ket_ of a semi-automatic handgun.

“Put the gun down!” an unknown assailant shouted. “Put the motherfucking gun down!” 

“Take her alive! Do not shoot to kill!” an authoritative voice boomed over the gunfire. 

Holtz’s heart clenched at the ensuing sounds of chaos. Gorin’s gun popped three more times. Three more times the screams of the wounded and dying drift through the metal, the older woman joining in when a bullet punched through her shoulder and threw her back against the door.  

 _Mother!_ Tears streamed down Holtzmann’s face as she beat wildly at the metal.

“Run, Jillian,” Gorin’s voice cracked in her attempt to hold back a cry drenched with pain and shattered regret. Her left arm swung dead at her side, crimson soaking her front. The men were pouring in, hunting for their prey. “Don’t let them find you. Run and know I love you. Never forget that. Promise me you’ll never forget.”

 _Please…please, don’t do this _,__  Holtz begged. _Please let me in._

“Promise me!”

 _How could I ever forget?_ she sobbed.  _You’re my mother. I’ll love you until the end of time._

“I love you too, Jillian,” Gorin choked, sliding down the steel door. Even through the curling gray smoke, she could see them coming, rats flooding in through the hole they’d made, green scopes and night vision piercing the gloom. They thought her a fox in a snare. They thought wrong. “I have always and will always love you. From the day I conceived you, to the day you were born, and all the moments in between, I have and always will love you. So very, very much.”

The gun fired one final time.

Holtzmann screamed like her heart had been torn out through her back, knees hitting the floor as the world turned to ash. Where there had once been a consciousness at the edge of her mind now lingered a void. The tether, the one connecting her to Rebecca Gorin, had been severed. The rope had been cut, a life ended, and Holtzmann felt her mother’s light snuff out.  

Erin’s own knees buckled, hand over her mouth. She didn’t need to be told what happened. Holtz’s reaction was enough. In a blind grab, she pulled her to her chest and held tight, but they couldn’t stay there. Whatever or whoever was coming would break through the security door at some point. So with gentle hands, Erin helped her lover stand, muttering softly, “We need to keep moving,” even as her own heart broke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it makes you feel any better, I cried while writing the last half. Like legitimately had to get up and leave my computer. Gorin's goodbye killed me that much but it had to be. 
> 
> I want to also apologize for how long this thing has taken me to write. May was an awful month filled with legal issues and work drama. I haven't been in a good headspace at all, and writing this chapter was a battle. The next chapter won't be nearly as long, but don't look for sunshine yet. We're gonna be in darkness for a while as we roll into the sequel "Topsider"
> 
> As always, please let me know what you thought. Come scream at me. I absolutely deserve it but please at least write something.


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go gang. The last chapter. We're finally here. 
> 
> I want to thank you all for the wonderful experience I've had not only in this fandom but with this story. You all have been so wonderful with your comments and general support while I bushwack through the weeds trying to give you all quality content to read xD Seriously though, I've had the BEST time writing this fic, and I'm both excited and nervous to start the sequel. If you enjoyed this fun little venture into madness too, be sure to stop by my tumblr at not-so-secret-nerd.tumblr.com and shout at me. Shout at me here too XD You know I love hearing from you. 
> 
> So here we go. Last chapter before the epilogue. Our final glimpse at everything before our world comes crashing down.

Time and its rotation meant nothing and neither did the universe. Holtzmann stumbled behind Erin, hardly seeing the tunnels pass by in a blur beyond her watery vision.

Her mother was dead. It repeated like a gruesome bell in her mind: she was gone, she was gone, she was gone.

Surreal didn’t describe it. Cruel was too soft a word.

A black hole hung where her mother’s consciousness once resided, sucking her in and threatening to crush her into an impossible singularity. It was like losing a limb. Her mind drifted to the amputation, expecting something to be there, only to be met with dead space she couldn’t mentally compute. Her mother was supposed to be there but she wasn’t. She was dead, and it was Holtzmann’s fault.

That understanding made her weak. Made her slow to react and even slower to care what became of her body because what world did she have now? Abby was gone too along with Goliath. Her family was dead. Would it be so bad to join them? Unconsciously her hand slipped from its hard press against her side, letting the blood flow faster.    

“...almost there. Stay with me.”

The voice came from afar, pulling Holtz back from the brink of whatever madness she teetered on. A hand was holding hers, tight as a lifeline, the fingers slender and familiar with a band around one of them. Holtz’s eyes traveled up the accompanying arm and shoulder, slowly taking in Erin’s silhouette against a grim backdrop.

Erin.

She was still here.

The knowledge jump started Holtzmann’s heart and brought the centrifugal spin of gravity back to a livable speed. Erin was still with her in the tunnels.

“I…I don’t know where we are,” Erin worried aloud, doing a slow turn in place. She thought they were heading lower but the coloring was different. Cooler. Indicating they were going up rather than down. Her heart rate spiked. Up meant certain death…

 _That way,_ Holtz said, pointing down the shaft. _My lab…we’re close to it._

“We can’t go back to your home. The Norths are crawling everywhere.”

Holtzmann shook her head, making the dizziness squatting at the base of her skull worse. _I rigged a security door outside my lab. It was one of the first to fall. We’ll be safe there for a little while._

“How will we get in?”

_Backdoor _._ _

Holtz was moving before Erin could comment, one hand trailing along the pipe to help maintain her balance while her eyes remained fixed on the prize. Her lab meant safety. Familiarity. A chance to breathe and compute and _stop _.__

It didn’t take them long to thread their way into a tight chamber only big enough for them to stand in if they stood chest to chest. An iron ladder had been bolted into the cement, leading to a hatch some feet above.

 _I’ll go first_ , Holtz volunteered, barely able to wrangle the strength to climb let alone twist open the hatch. Erin waited at the bottom with baited breath, fearing the second the blonde entered the lab she’d hear gunshots. None came, however, just Holtz leaning down to whisper that the coast was clear.

For all the mayhem and bloodshed taking place in her kingdom, Holtz’s lab seemed to be untouched. Likely this was because the security door securing the room was the first to fall but the sense of relief flooding the smaller woman was as potent as her grief.

At least one small part of her life was still intact. For now.

Shutting the hatch behind Erin and locking it, Holtz shuffled around to the side of her hydroelectric machine, looking for what she couldn’t say. Something to help with grounding and keep her mind from slipping further into darkness most likely. This was her lab, and while she'd been good at keeping personal effects out of her workplace there were still reminders of what she’d lost.

A pair of Abby’s glasses hanging from a hook.

A book she and her mother used pour over while Holtz was learning how to tinker and disassemble.

Lab coats they’d all worn.

The first invention she’d ever successfully assembled, tucked away on a shelf with a plaque Gorin fashioned from a scrap of brass brought by a Helper.

Holtzmann stumbled in her reach for the plaque, shoulder thumping against the cabinet beside her workbench as the world spun, threatening to drag her to the floor. It was growing increasingly hard to see straight, shivers wracking her body to the point her knees actually knocked together. Try as she might, she couldn’t right herself, hissing through clenched teeth whenever her torso shifted, pulling at the bullet wound.

Two steps forward and her treacherous legs gave out. 

“Jillian!” Erin lunged, catching her before she hit the floor. How it escaped her notice until now went unanswered, but the second Erin caught a glimpse of the crimson stain overtaking most of her girlfriend’s front she couldn’t pull her eyes away. “Oh my god, you’ve been __shot__!?”

Holtzmann lethargically leaned against her partner, shocked by how bright the room was becoming. Was it cold or was that just her? Hard telling around the numbness settling into her fingers.

 _Is that what that was? Thought it was a bee sting,_  she tried to jest.

Erin half dragged, half carried her pale, clammy partner to the couch and helped her lay back, lifting Holtz’s shirt to see the damage and immediately drawing back. “Oh god…”

_S’not that bad._

“No, Jill, this is bad. This is very, very bad.” Practically climbing out of her overshirt, Erin folded it and pressed the fabric over the wound, earning a strangled cry from Holtzmann who shifted against the pain. “We need to find a doctor.”

 _Taft’s the only one I know. Can’t really…get a hold of him now. Don’t even know if he’s alive._  The statement was sobering. Holtz stilled, wide eyes turning glassy as she stared at Erin. _I don’t have any family left, Erin._

“Shh, baby don’t talk like that,” Erin soothed, moving sweaty strands of hair out of Holtz’s face. “I’m sure Taft is with the others farther down, and I’m here. You’re not alone. I won’t leave you again.”

Holtzmann nodded, blinking back heavy tears in an effort to keep herself calm. It was like fighting a hurricane with a kite but she was managing…barely.

“I know someone who can help us, but not here,” Erin said, her mind jumping to Patty. It didn’t matter she was Topside. It didn’t matter the Norths were probably looking for them. Erin would get Holtzmann help come hell or high water. “Do you think I could get her on the radio?”

 _Worth a shot _,__  Holtz shrugged weakly.

Erin jogged around the workbench to where Holtzmann kept her radio but staring at the dials and knobs brought her to the very real understanding she didn’t have a clue how to work it or contact someone in the cellular age. And what was to say Patty was evening listening? The PI had a police scanner but Erin knew nothing of how any of that worked.

“I don’t know how to get a hold of her,” she admitted, kneeling in front of Holtz once more, worry flaring when she saw how pale and still the smaller woman was becoming. “Jill?”

_Still…here._

“We need to get to my friend Patty.”

 _Then we need to leave._ Holtz pointed weakly towards the lift, head lolling against her shoulder as she did.

Erin enthusiastically nodded, helping her stand and cross the room. It took some wrangling to get the rusted lift cage open －Holtz helping where she could with grunting effort －but the cage gate eventually opened with reluctant groaning. Erin stepped in first to help guide her partner in but jumped when the gate slammed closed behind her with enough force to shake the cage.

“What the hell? Jillian, what are you doing?”

Holtz couldn’t even look at Erin as she smashed the locking mechanism with a wrench －swinging a bit too wide, but oh well－ ensuring it couldn’t be opened on this level. Sudden understanding blooming, Erin grabbed the bars and shook them hard in an attempt to pull them aside but they wouldn’t budge.

“Jill, no! No, you can’t do this! Let me out!”

_Sorry, Erin. I can’t do that._

“This isn’t a game!” she shouted, pounding the metal again with the flat of her palm. “We can’t stay here. You need help! Open the door!” When no answer came, Erin attempted to pry her way out but only succeeded in winding herself and scraping her palms raw on the metal.

Head bowed, Holtz threaded her fingers through the bars partially to keep upright and partially to be close to Erin.

 _I can’t,_  she whispered, shaking her head before lifting it, silvery tears streaming down her cheeks. The smile she forced looked physically painful. _I’ve lost everyone I ever loved in one night. I can’t lose you too. Not you._

“You haven’t lost me! I’m right here! I swore to you I’d never leave again and I won’t, Jill! I said forever and I meant it!”

_Please forgive me._

“No! Let me out, goddamnit!” Erin raged, doing everything in her power to free herself but serving to only bruise her shoulder and hands more. Anger turning wet, she choked back a sob, sliding to her knees in front of the only good thing in her life. “Please, don’t do this. Don’t send me away. I love you. Jesus, Jill, _I love you_!”

Holtzmann slid to her knees, mirroring Erin’s position. The ache to hold her partner tore her heart in two. Reaching through the bars, she cupped Erin’s wet cheek with one hand, guiding their eyes together one last time. She wanted to remember the blue of Erin’s eyes and how they shinned like sapphires in the light.

“I…l-love…yo-you, too _ _.__ ”

It took everything in Holtzmann to verbally say those words, dragging them from the depths of her disused vocal chords, free hand signing them at the same time before reaching up and slamming the lever down, sending the lift on its last Topside journey.

Erin shattered.

She screamed and begged and reached for her partner but Holtzmann disappeared as the shaft swallowed her, shooting her into darkness that would ultimately deliver her into life and light, two things she couldn’t stomach if it cost her Holtzmann.   

And then there was one.

Breath hitching as her body followed her heart and finally gave out, Holtz twisted around and put her back against the cage gate, legs stretched out in front of her. Tears cut lines down her face as she waited for the inevitable to happen.

Some minutes later, while the world spun and her heart continued its stubborn rhythm, Holtz remembered the recorder in her pocket and dug it out on a lark. It had been the last thing her mother gave her, odd that it was. Even in the light of her lab, it was innocuous. Plain even. She wasn’t sure what to expect when she pressed the play button, but it wasn’t what this.

“Jillian,” Gorin’s voice cut through the fog in her brain, bringing her a little more upright. Her breath hitched. She’d never hear her mother say her name again. “I’m sorry. Let me say that first. I’m sorry because I know if you’re listening to this the inevitable or unimaginable has happened, and I no longer walk this earth. I wish we had more time. I truly do, and I’m sorry my cowardice prevented me from telling you all of this long ago. You deserved better from me. I was selfish and wanted you to have a peaceful life away from the sins that complicated your beginning. Please know I never intended things to go this far.

“This will be my final confession. You deserve to know who and what you are from the source. My daughter, I have lied to you. Your mother never abandoned you in an alley when you were an infant. You were never adopted. You, Jillian, are my own flesh and blood.

“In my youth, I was commissioned to work for the North crime family. I say commissioned like I had a choice, but this isn’t about me and my mistakes. Not like that, at least. At the time of my ‘hiring’, I was working as a geneticist for MIT. My thesis… was in the progression and eventual stable creation of gene therapy with a heavy focus on Huntington’s disease. The disease I inherited from my mother.”

Holtzmann felt her stomach bottom out. She turned to look at the recorder as if it was actually her mother, eyes wide. Genetics? Huntington’s Disease? A grisly picture began to form in her mind.

“Jillian, please understand I never meant to create what I did…to create you. That’s not to say you were ever thought of as a mistake. I loved you from the beginning till the end. Never forget that, but I was absolutely certain the genetic modifications I made wouldn’t take to my egg. It wasn’t even my intention to have it bond. I was focused on modifying markers deep in the DNA strands to help create a stable bridge for gene therapy and then terminate to harvest the mutated DNA, but something happened and the…mutation took root. In my arrogance and shortsightedness, I fertilized that egg. I felt I needed to. The possibilities at the time…they were quite astounding, to say the least.

“This was meant to be my secret, despite pregnancy being quite difficult to hide, but genetic research like that…it’s not ethical. It’s not even moral. There is a reason testing begins with mice and rats, but I was young and foolish and believed the rules didn’t apply to me, and for that, I am deeply sorry. My ego and clout brought you into this world, and my mistake nearly ended your life before it began.

“You see, my research was being closely monitored without my knowledge. The Norths were interested, as any crime family would be, in the prospects of something marketable. Had I succeeded in creating a genetically superior gene capable of being used for therapy it would have put the family on the map, so to speak. Billions of dollars were at stake to be made, had I succeeded, which I did. I carried you to term, something that could have well killed us both, and on the day of your birth I was approached by Edward North. It was blackmail from the beginning. He’d copied my research, taken my original documents, even the video evidence of my testing. I was told you were now his property and that my research would continue with you as the test subject. He wanted to make you into something you were never meant to be: a lucrative donor to their cause. His very own tester rat.

“My daughter, I ran the first chance that crossed my path, but my severance from the family was…messy. There were quite a few researchers and fellow doctors linked to the Norths who were loyal to me. Abby was one of them as well as Taft. Abby was a microbiologist working alongside me as my protégé, and it was with her help I escaped.”

Holtzmann felt like she’d been kicked in the chest. Abby…Abby had been a part of this from the beginning? She’d known all along Gorin was her actual mother…and she’d kept that from her?

“The day we ran was the day she lost her eyesight. And that was also the day I nearly lost you, too. A North soldier pulled you from my arms. You fell and hit the floor. I don’t think I’ve ever been so terrified in my life as I was scooping your still form up and running under a hail of gunfire.” Gorin’s breath hitched, close to tears. “I thought I’d lost you after just meeting you, and it was then I realized there was nowhere I could go in the world where the Norths wouldn’t find me. They had eyes everywhere…except focused on the Underground.

“I knew a man who could help us. The first Helper. He ferried us into the tunnels, and that’s where we stayed. That’s where I stayed, working towards penance for my crimes and vowing to raise you in a world where you’d never be seen as anything other than normal. That’s why your Topside treks angered me. I was scared for you, Jillian. Scared that even after all these years the Norths would find you and take you away from me. And now we truly are separated, and my heart breaks at the thought.”

Holtzmann was earnestly crying by this point. Everything she’d ever known had been an unnecessary lie. They should have told her. She would have never gone Topside, but her mother just wanted her daughter to grow up as normal, as __human,__  as possible. Betrayal and longing made a toxic mix in her blood.   

“I love you, Jillian. I wish this was something I could have told you in person. I wish our beginning hadn’t been so tumultuous. I wish I could have grown old beside you and watched you grow into the beautiful woman I know you will be. I know I’ve put so much on your shoulders, and I am sorry for that. If anything is left of our home, go to ground. Dig in. Don’t let the Norths take you. Find Abby or Taft. If neither of them are with you, find Cedric Barrowman. Hide and remember I will always love you.”

Go to ground? Mother honestly thought Holtzmann was going to walk out of the Underground alive? It was a sweet sentiment, but there was no leaving. No hiding. No waiting until the dust cleared and starting over. Holtzmann had lost everything. Her only source of relief was that Erin wouldn’t share the same fate.

It had escaped her notice until now - attention on the recorder and the shattering message left for her - but there was a fizzling sound coming from the other side of the security door that was growing louder. Almost like a cartoon fuze…or a plasma torch. That suspicion came to fruition when Holtz spotted a molten bead of bright orange metal drip from a seam forming near the top of the door.

So the Norths wanted in, did they?

_Let them come._

Staggering to her feet, Holtzmann grabbed her closest wrench, sized up her hydroelectric machine －a creation which had taken her more than three years to successfully build －and swung overhanded at the closest regulator valve.

Why did death take less time than birth? Why was destruction so easy? Why did life teeter on such a knifepoint, a strong gust of wind or a malfunctioning electrical system enough to tip that balance into mayhem?

Flames rose, seeking and consuming whatever they could. The lab was burning, mirroring most of the Underground. Standing at the epicenter, Holtzmann listened as her machines made plaintive noises, dying the painful death of overload.

Her mother said to leave. No, she wasn’t leaving, and neither were the North soldiers picking their way towards her. She would let them in. Let them think they’d won and then bring the fucking roof down on their heads.

Readying herself, tears still fresh on her face, Holtz smashed the recorder under her boot—no evidence left behind—and raised her wrench, preparing to raze her inherited kingdom to the ground. And when the hydroelectric machine finally issued its death bellows, when the heat in the room climbed to scorching, when the fire soared high, Holtzmann opened the doors to her inner sanctum and met the mercenaries head-on with an eruption of fire at her back and a roar ripping from her throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep going! You've still got the epilogue to get through ;)


	42. Epilogue

A figure crawled from the twisted wreckage of a steel lift-cage as the world under New York City burned. Pale hands scrambled at the stones, bloodied and bruised, the name of a lover screamed into the waiting darkness. The name never reached the Underground where smoke and flames reigned, however. It never reached the ears of its intended. Instead, the lab was silent.

Dead.

Nothing moved.

Nothing lived save for the shadows filtering through the blasted remains of a security door, flashlights piercing the smoke, guns drawn and trained. A set of weathered boots paused next to the still form of a woman not quite human but not quite animal.

Considering.

Calculating.

A smile grew on his face, twisting the edges of his lips. After all this time…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you all in "Topsider" ;)


End file.
